A/N: One more before the weekend. And you'd better show me some Valentine's Day review love or I'm gonna be all sad and have to take it out on the characters. ;-)
Re: Guest reviewer 1: Nope, not Dutch (not far away though). Just a funny coincidence with that name.
Re: Guest reviewer 2: If you look at the chapters' structure, you can kinda figure out in which chapter approximately Jane will have to make her decision. :-)
…
Chapter 7
April 5, 2014
"There is no 'us', Jane." Maura's words come without warning. Like the sucker punch that knocks you out when you're already down.
"Of course, there is…," Jane objects in a whisper. Incredulous. Desperate.
Maura shakes her head, tears glinting in her eyes. "What exactly do you want me to fight for? To see you run away again?"
"What, you're saying it's my fault?" The brunette's voice is cracking. "You want to die because of me?"
"No, but I… I've considered all circumstances," the doctor struggles. She has had enough time to prepare her arguments, to make that which is inconceivable sound logical. But now the words are dying in her throat. "I've thought about it for the last I-don't-know-how-many hours, and it's just that…"
"Just what?" The detective attempts to shed her vulnerability, to push for an explanation, to seek refuge in her anger.
"Think of all the people that would die… families, children… They have so much more than what we have," Maura's eyes are pleading for understanding. "We can't take it all away from them for some selfish reason…"
"We are not taking it away from them, Maura — he is!" Jane's voice is gaining in volume and intensity, building an acoustic shield against the hurt inflicted by the doctor's suggestion. "We didn't plant that damn bomb — he did!"
"But we are the ones who can stop it…" Maura doesn't know how much longer she can hold it together, how much longer she can convince herself that she's doing the right thing.
The detective pauses, studies the doctor's face, hoping that Maura simply wants to be talked out of her intended sacrifice. "No one would blame you if you wanted to live…"
"This isn't about what I want," the blonde insists. "This is about what's best for everybody…"
A desperate sigh escapes Jane's lips as she crouches down and leans against the bars, her last hopes fading away. "Yeah, everybody but me…"
For a few precious seconds, silence engulfs the basement as Jane buries her head in her arms and Maura can't do anything but sit on her chair and watch. She knows there is nothing she could say to make it easier for the detective, but she needs to drown the doubt in her own mind. "It's… it's like in that Star Wars movie we watched… you know, when they talked about the need of the many versus the need of the few…?"
Jane's reaction is unexpected. With her face still hidden between her arms, her body is shaking as if in a fit of weeping. But it's not tears that are breaking free. Instead, the sound of muffled giggling is filling the room.
And it is beyond Maura's grasp. "Are… are you laughing?"
Wearily, Jane looks up. And she is laughing indeed. But it's a desperate laughter in light of the irony of their situation. "You mean Star Trek, Maura, and I fucking hate Star Trek…"
The thought of their movie nights is comforting and heartbreaking at the same time, and Maura tries to muster a smile. She doesn't succeed. "You said nobody hated Star Trek…"
"Yeah, but I do now…" Jane wipes the tears from her eyes, as if this tiny illusion of normalcy has given her new strength. She turns to the other woman behind the bars. "I wouldn't have made it through after Frost's death without you… I can't lose you, too, Maura."
The blonde hesitates, overwhelmed by the honesty and vulnerability in Jane's face. And it makes everything so much harder. "You can't lose what you never really had…"
In an instant, that last flicker of optimism dies in Jane's eyes, and fiery protest takes its place instead. "Fine, if you want to die, then I'm gonna die with you. I'll just sit in that other room and do nothing… Whatever. Let him shut down the damn ventilation. I don't care…"
"No, Jane!" Panic grips Maura's heart. This is not acceptable. "The bomb would still go off and… and I don't want you to die."
"But you want me to kill you — that's pretty much the same." The detective shrugs. Nothing really matters anymore.
"Don't think about it as killing me," the doctor argues feebly. "Think about it as saving all those people…"
But Maura's attempt to justify her decision with a mere twist of words only feeds Jane's resistance. "If you're so desperate to save all those strangers, then do it yourself."
"You know I can't…," Maura sighs and glances at the button attached to the bars — the button that's out of reach for her. The button that would save all those innocent lives in Fenway Park — and kill her instead. The button that Jane has to press in less than six minutes… "Please, don't put this burden on my shoulders, Jane. I couldn't live with the thought that you let all those people die. And you couldn't either."
"I don't think about it as letting all those people die," the detective counters, stubbornness resonating in her voice. "I think about it as saving you."
"You can't save me, Jane. Not this time."
…
…
April 3 — Two Days Earlier
In the wee hours of Thursday morning, when the city was still wrapped in darkness and the first commuters had just begun to board the MTBA busses and the trains of the "T", Jane was already back behind her desk at BPD, stifling a yawn and trying to focus on her current case. Except for an overly ambitious rookie detective diligently doing his paperwork at the far end of the bullpen, she was all by herself and easily could have seized the rare quiet to cut her own stack of paperwork in half. If only her brain had cooperated…
But after she had so abruptly run out of the Dirty Robber the night before, her brain had refused to even consider the idea of falling asleep and instead had turned its attention to Maura, to their relationship, and to all of her associated fears. Again. And when five hours of tossing and turning in her sheets hadn't brought any helpful revelation, she had finally surrendered and rolled out of bed at 4 a.m., cursing at her alarm and at her shoes and at everything else, and decided that she might as well go back to work.
Unfortunately, the change of location hadn't resulted in anything but a deep desire to crawl back into her bed, even if only to pretend to be asleep.
Unnerved by her brain's waywardness, Jane heaved herself up from her office chair and strolled to the coffee machine on the table next to Korsak's desk. If she wanted to get anything done today, she would have to switch back to her usual morning routine, and that definitely included coffee. But when she reached for a plastic cup in anticipation and chose her preferred settings on the machine, she couldn't help but imagine Maura hovering next to her, lecturing her about the benefits of green tea for her convalescence and giving her that look again. And suddenly, her desire for coffee vanished into thin air, as if her body had secretly conspired with her brain in an attempt to make her day as frustrating and tiresome as possible.
With an angry growl, she crumpled up the plastic cup and tossed it into the trash bin before stomping back to her desk, earning her a curious and slightly frightened glance from the rookie detective at the other end of the room.
Why in the world couldn't her damn brain stop thinking about the medical examiner for at least one minute? Was that really too much to ask? After all, Maura's mind didn't seem to be as preoccupied with their relationship either. Granted, Maura's mind had a gazillion little fun facts to distract itself, but still… Maybe the medical examiner didn't consider them to be anything but best friends after all? Maybe all of Maura's ambiguous gestures weren't that ambiguous at all? A few days ago, the blonde hadn't hesitated to suggest spending less time together. And last night, Maura hadn't really tried to stop her from bolting out of the Dirty Robber either…
As Jane let out a sigh and leaned back in her chair, still without coffee or focus, her eyes fell on the empty desk opposite her own — the desk that once belonged to Detective Frost but was now used as needed by various members of the homicide unit. And inevitably, her thoughts drifted back to that fateful Brookline bombing less than five months ago, how it had changed everything, how she had let herself go and almost skipped Frost's funeral. And how Maura had been there for her all the while and done so much more than could be expected from any best friend.
Maybe it was finally time to talk about it, to lay all cards on the table, to take the next step and hope they'd still be walking into the same direction.
When the clock above Korsak's desk showed 7:30 a.m. and her stack of paperwork was still as high as it had been two hours before, Jane grabbed her phone and keys and rushed out of the bullpen, hoping to catch the medical examiner before she'd start her first autopsy of the day, determined to sort out the matter once and for all.
But as soon as she reached Maura's office, as soon as she spotted the blonde standing at her desk with her back turned to the door, all of Jane's resolve evaporated and left her scrambling for words as she leaned against the door frame and let her eyes linger a little too long on her friend. That overdue conversation about the state of their relationship had been postponed so often, it sure could wait a day longer…
Before the brunette had a chance to ponder what to say instead, the medical examiner involuntarily gave her a cue when she let out a sudden not-so-quiet sneeze.
"Uh oh," Jane made her presence known. "And so it begins…"
"It's just one sneeze," Maura objected as she turned around and greeted the brunette with a smile before searching for a tissue on her desk.
Shaking her head in amusement at the doctor's denial, the detective grabbed a box of tissues from the table next to the sofa and handed it to Maura. After her own battle with those obnoxious influenza viruses, Jane knew all too well that there'd be more to come than just one sneeze. "You should go home and enjoy a full meal while your stomach is still cooperating. Trust me, there won't be any culinary pleasures for you over the next few days…"
"I don't intend to get sick," the blonde declared as she took the tissues and subtly blew her nose.
Jane leaned against the desk and skeptically raised her eyebrow. "Oh, so you just decide you won't get sick, and that's it?"
"Well, there's a strong correlation between one's psychological attitude and physical strength," Maura explained. "For example, a recent study shows that if your brain is convinced you've had a healthy eight hours of sleep, your cognitive functioning will improve significantly."
"Hmm, my brain could use some convincing then," the detective sighed. "Haven't slept at all last night."
Biting her lip at the implications between the lines, Maura averted her eyes and focused on a stack of case files on her desk instead. "I thought your sleeping problems had gotten better…"
"Well… apparently not…," Jane murmured.
After too many nights of shared sleep patterns, they both knew perfectly well why the detective's insomnia had returned, but when Jane didn't show any intention to elaborate further, Maura picked the top-most case file and decided to get started with her tasks of the day instead. She might have wanted to talk about the state of their relationship, and maybe she should have continued to push the matter, but sleep had equally eluded her the night before. And as she had lain awake in the quiet of her house, thinking about how many hints and chances she had given Jane to clear up the ambiguity surrounding their relationship, she had been forced to admit to herself that maybe some things should simply remain unsaid. Maybe this was just the way their relationship was destined to be. Best friends forever, but nothing more.
Trying not to let her melancholy take over her voice, the medical examiner headed for the autopsy room. "I'll have to get started with the autopsy for Detective Crowe's case…"
Jane nodded, quietly yearning to just let it all out… All her fears and worries that had kept her up all night… All the thoughts that had so eloquently kept her from her work just minutes ago upstairs… But like so many times before, a flood of what-ifs inevitably drowned everything else, making it impossible to find the right words to express all the things she wanted to say.
"Hey, Maura…," she called after the blonde instead and mustered a smile when the other woman turned back around. "If your body decides to ignore your mind and gets sick anyway, just let me know if you need anything, okay?"
"Okay…," Maura returned the brunette's smile, or at least she tried, and then disappeared in the autopsy room next door.
Mentally scolding herself for having chickened out like that once again, Jane trudged out of the morgue and absentmindedly pushed the elevator's UP button. As the door opened after a few seconds, she was almost knocked over by a very agitated Sergeant Korsak.
"There you are," he gasped out of breath. "We gotta go — we have a survivor!"
…
…
Half an hour later, Jane and Korsak arrived at Beth Israel Deaconess Medical Center to talk to a young woman who appeared to have survived the latest insidious moral dilemma devised by their philosophically inclined killer. Two cops had found her semi-consciously ambulating in a park between Southie and Dorchester, and after they had listened to her somewhat incoherent description of her ordeal, they had alarmed Homicide — because of the story she had told, because of the five dead men she had mentioned, and because of what had almost happened to herself.
When they were led into Darla Fisher's room, Jane didn't need to listen to the nurse's medical mumbo-jumbo to understand the condition of the weary woman with a purple bruise on her head — her panic-stricken eyes, her shaking hands, and her instinctive glances towards the door were all too familiar signs of someone who had experienced a life-altering trauma, who had barely escaped death, and who would not be able to sleep in peace for a long time to come.
"Darla? I'm Detective Rizzoli," Jane carefully took the woman's hand, sat on the edge of the bed, and nodded at Korsak. "This is my partner, Sergeant Korsak. I know you've been through something terrible and you just want to forget, but we need you to tell us exactly what happened to you… Do you think you can do that?"
After a few more fearful glances at the detectives and at the nurse waiting near the door, Darla Fisher nodded, hesitant at first but then with the stubborn determination of a woman who refused to be treated like a victim for the rest of her life. "What do you want to know…?"
"Tell us everything from the start," Jane urged her calmly. "Take your time and try to remember as much as you can…"
"Well, I… I'm running a mobile bakery on Oxford Street, right on campus," the young woman began. "Yesterday morning, around six, I think… or maybe it was seven… but it was still dark… I… I had just started getting everything ready… And then a car parked right next to my van… and its lights were blinding me. I thought it was a student or one of the researchers, you know… they are always up so early and often stop at my bakery to get coffee and bagels before going to the lab or to their lectures…"
"You didn't really see the car then?" Korsak wondered while scribbling down notes on his pad.
"No…," Darla shook her head. "It was a dark one… an economy car, I think… but I couldn't see any details, I'm sorry."
"It's okay," Jane calmed her. "What happened next?"
"I think I… I must have returned to my van," the young woman squinted, trying to remember more details. "I know I heard that car's door open and… and someone must have gotten out… I remember I wanted to offer them some coffee but I… I'm afraid I don't know what happened next."
"They probably knocked you out. It's perfectly normal that you can't remember," Jane tried to console her. "What about that room you mentioned to our officers? What happened in there?"
"It was cold… like in a basement," Darla took a deep breath. "And there were no windows… And I woke up in some sort of cell… tied to a chair and… and my mouth was taped and I…"
When the young woman swallowed hard, barely able to describe what happened next, Jane comfortingly squeezed her hand, trying to help her through her difficult task as best as she could. "It's alright… take as much time as you need…"
"I'm… when I woke up…," Darla finally continued. "There were five men with me in that cell… They were all… all tied up and gagged, just like me. And… I don't know how long we sat there… They kept staring at me and… and I didn't know what was going on… But then after a while, there was another man — or, well, at least he walked like a man, but he was wearing one of those…, uh, a hazmat suit and a mask… And he just stood there and looked at us… And his eyes… I'll never forget his eyes… They were so… so cold and… and…"
When Darla Fisher took another break and shyly wiped away a few tears, Korsak handed her a tissue from the nightstand and worriedly looked at Jane. "We need more than just his eyes…" he whispered.
"I know…," Jane breathed back before turning her attention to Darla again. "What happened then? How did you escape?"
"We all waited for minutes, or hours, I don't know…," Darla remembered, her voice getting heavier with every word. "Then something changed with the ventilation system, and it got colder in the room and harder to breathe… And there was a timer on the wall… And it kept ticking down…" She swallowed hard again before she continued. "When… when there were only two minutes left on the clock and we could barely breathe any longer, another guy stumbled into the basement… He must have come in from another room, and he… he looked confused and tired, and his suit was all wrinkled… And… he was carrying a gun…"
As the young woman subconsciously clutched Jane's hand in panic, the detective gently brushed her arm and gave her another moment to breathe. "Shh, you're safe here… no one's gonna hurt you again, I promise."
Sniffing into her tissue, Darla eventually mustered whatever strength she had left and finished her story. "That other guy, he… he panicked… He looked at his gun and… and at the five men… and then at me… And then he straightened up and looked me in the eyes and raised his gun and… and I thought… I thought this is it… But then, all of a sudden, he turned to the five men and fired at them… He shot them… He shot them all… And then he stormed off and the ventilation came back on… And I just sat there and… and watched those five men bleed to death… And then, after a few minutes, the man in the hazmat suit came back, and I tried to scream but he… he just didn't seem to care about any of this… He came straight into the cell and injected me with something… And… and the next thing I really remember is the park and those two officers trying to talk to me…"
When Darla blew her nose, her hands shaking and barely able to grasp the tissue, the nurse waiting in the door frame decided it was time her patient got some much needed rest. "I think this was enough for today, Detectives… Miss Fisher really needs to sleep now."
Not quite satisfied but feeling sympathetic towards the young woman, Jane nodded and got up.
"Wait, I forgot," Darla held her back and reached for a slip of paper on the nightstand. "I found this in my pocket… And I think I remember him telling me to give it to the police…"
The detective didn't really need to read the note to know what kind of message it contained. After a quick glance, she wordlessly handed it to Korsak.
79% ARE AGAINST THE DEATH PENALTY, BUT 83% WOULDN'T HESITATE TO SHOOT FIVE FELONS WHO HAVE SERVED THEIR TIME. ODD, ISN'T IT?
P.S.: GIVE YOUR BOMB SQUAD A DAY OFF. BUT YOU SHOULD GET A FEW BUCKETS OF WATER…
"Why is he doing this?" Darla looked at her visitors with teary eyes. "Why me?"
Struggling to find the right answer to this question she had heard so often before, Jane couldn't do anything but squeeze the woman's hand once more. "We don't know yet. But I promise we'll find out. And we'll make sure he will never hurt anybody else again."
When the nurse shot them another impatient look, Jane and Korsak cast one last worried glance at the young woman and then snuck out of the room.
Ten minutes later, as they got into Korsak's car and leaned back in silence, still brooding over Darla Fisher's haunting recollection, the sergeant's phone started buzzing in his pocket. Annoyed by the interruption of his train of thought, he whipped it out and answered the call.
Following a sequence of What? and I see… and We'll be right there, the sergeant hung up and frowned at Jane. "Maybe we won't have to search for these five dead men for long. There's been a fire at a foreclosure home in Southie. Five dead. And my gut tells me they didn't die in the flames…"
…
…
After a speedy ride through the streets of Boston, Korsak parked his sedan behind half a dozen firetrucks and police vans near a yellow-taped row of dilapidated houses in the south of the city, and he and Jane got out of the car.
Billows of smoke were still hovering over one of the houses, and its decayed wooden walls were severely burned and coated with a thick layer of soot.
"Detectives? Over here!" One of the uniformed men waved them towards the house, and after a quick game of Name That Face, Jane recognized him as Officer Radnor from one of their previous crime scenes. "The fire's under control, and the techs are already inside. The whole thing has been made to look like an exploded gas leak, but everything smells like foul play. No pun intended…" Officer Radnor tried not to crack up at his own joke as he led them onto the front porch.
"And I take it the dead guys you found in there didn't die during a cozy barbecue?" Jane let her eyes wander over the area. "Is the M.E. already in?"
Before Officer Radnor could respond, a sneeze from inside the house answered the brunette's question. "Never mind," she muttered and cautiously entered the building through its charred front door.
When she spotted Maura bent over two equally charred bodies in a corner of what used to be the living room, Jane squatted down next to the blonde and smirked at her from the side. "Just one sneeze, huh?"
Maura briefly looked up to greet the detective but then focused back on the corpses in front of her. "I'm telling you, it's nothing."
"Sure, sure…," Jane chuckled. "And your eyes are all teary because you're just so sad about this crime scene?"
"One of the bodies in the other room wasn't as badly burned and had a gunshot wound to his chest," the medical examiner explained, ignoring Jane's teasing. "These two here have severe fourth-degree burns, and I need to do a full autopsy to confirm their actual cause of death."
"I'm gonna put my money on gunshot wounds to the chest for all five of them…," the detective murmured.
"You can't know that for sure," Maura objected.
"I think I can," Jane grimaced. "We've just talked to another victim of our philosophy killer… Looks like he's bored by his bomb threats and decided to mix things up a little…"
"What?" the doctor paused her examination of the bodies. "You're saying these dead men are connected to that case?"
"Uh huh…," the detective nodded and nervously rubbed the scars on the back of her hands. "And I don't really wanna know which other variations our killer is going to explore…"
…
…
