Credit for the thoughts in this chapter goes to people who submitted on Rizzoli & Isles head canon.
The literature referenced is J.M Barrie's Peter Pan. I own nothing except fluffy socks, a mad dog, insane cats and M&Ms, so there's no point in suing me. I am playing with the characters for my own enjoyment.
When Maura finally awoke it was to the sound of rain hammering on her window. Stretching and yawning loudly, she snuggled in closer to the pillow and sighed. This was the worst part about her current situation, Jane would so often spend the night and she always awoke surrounded by the smell of her shampoo, her perfume, her Jane. To have her so close and not be able to touch her, to hold her in her arms as she slept, it was a mixed blessing. She knew that to have Jane in her life at all was a true blessing. Growing up as the socially awkward child she had been, she hadn't had any friends, not real ones. The people that she found around her were always after something, a copy of her notes, a slice of her inheritance, or something more physical. None of them had ever wanted her for who she was. Stripped of intelligence, money, stature or her other fine attributes, Maura knew they wouldn't have looked at her twice.
Jane asked her for nothing and in return, Maura had found herself giving the detective everything. But to have her so close and not be able to tell her of the thoughts and feelings she had, was almost too painful to handle.
As a child she had been lonely, locking herself away in the huge library at boarding school for hours on end, reading the classics by Austen and Shakespeare and, when she felt particularly lonely, more childish pleasures like The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe'or her personal favourite, 'Peter Pan'.
She sat up in bed and reached for her nightstand without looking. Taped to the top of the drawer's compartment, she pulled the worn and well-read copy and fingered the pages with love before settling it in her lap and wiping her eyes.
"All children, except one, grow up. They soon know that they will grow up, and the way Wendy knew was this. One day when she was two years old she was playing in a garden, and she plucked another flower and ran with it to her mother." She spoke softly, her voice shaking with the unshed tears of a childhood devoid of love and friendship. She didn't need to open the binding; she knew this story as well as she knew herself. "I suppose she must have looked rather delightful, for Mrs Darling put her hand to her heart and cried, 'Oh, why can't you remain like this for ever!'" Tears fell unashamedly down her cheeks, marking her otherwise pristine dress.
Maura Isles hadn't wanted to grow up. From the age of five, she'd left her bedroom window open, hoping against hope that Peter would fly down and whisk her away to Never Never land. She knew that there, she would belong and the loneliness and isolation she felt would be no more. She was after all, a Lost Boy.
"This was all that passed between them on the subject, but henceforth Wendy knew that she must grow up. You always know after you are two. Two is the beginning of the end." She sighed heavily, wiping her eyes on a tissue before dropping it in the trashcan and tucking the book back into its secret place. Confident her childish secret was well hidden, even from Jane; she crossed into the en-suite bathroom and washed her face quickly, cleaning away the evidence of her sorrow before heading into the living space to check on Jane.
Walking into the open plan living area, Maura stopped and took one final deep breath before forcing a smile on her face and stepping into view.
Nothing.
"Jane?" Every fibre of her being tingled, the house was silent. Jane wasn't known for her discretion or her silence. She went everywhere like a pocket hurricane. It was one of the things Maura loved the most about her, her ability to fill and room and yet to not overshadow or squash anyone else in it. Heads would turn when she swaggered in and, depending on her mood; people would part to let her through or close in around her, desperate to stand in her warmth and good humour. But now, there was nothing. No baseball or football game playing on the television. No music blaring as Jane danced around the kitchen, singing along loudly and out of tune as she so often did when she thought that she was alone. Nothing. Just the sound of her own heartbeat pounding in her ears.
"Jane!" she called again, striding into the middle of the room, her gait displaying a confidence that drained from her with every step.
As she reached the end of the couch, Maura grinned. Long limbs spread haphazardly over the sofa, a leg fallen from the cushions and resting on the floor and a tangle of chocolate brown hair cascading over the cushions. Jane was very clearly asleep. A gentle snore emanating from her, the only sign of life.
"Jane?" Maura whispered again. She didn't want to wake her friend, despite her somewhat precarious position on the sofa, she looked peaceful. When Jane didn't respond, Maura returned to her antique side table and pulled the drawer open carefully before reaching in for her 'Jane book' as she thought of it and pen. Sitting on the chair, she watched Jane for any sign of movement, the tell-tale signs she would soon wake. There was nothing, only the rhythmic breathing that came with a deep sleep.
She opened the journal and ran her fingers over the first half of the entry she'd begun earlier in the day. This was the book that Jane would never see, the desires she could never share for fear of yet another rejection. This was the place where she could tell Jane her most carnal desires and have Jane reciprocate them. The place where she didn't have to be the well-read, educated Doctor Isles. It was where she could just be Maura. A woman, with needs, desires and fears.
This was her Never Never Land.
She read the first paragraphs again, before taking a deep breath and continuing;
I want you, pressing up towards you, hoping I can tempt you into fucking me but with my sweet wetness only inches from your lips, you sit back, the look of disappointed desire that dances in your eyes only fuels my hunger to feel you inside me and yet I know I must wait.
Slowly you watch as my body twitches and screams, your eyes like bolts of electricity as you hungrily eye the feast before you, a feast that is solely yours.
As you creep in, your own wetness clear as you move, your lips now follow the well-known trail. I ache to press up into you, to ease this burning between my thighs and yet, I know somehow that my eagerness, rather than satisfying my hunger for you will only prolong my agony.
As you gently nibble and tease my neck, I feel your breasts; nipples hard and full of their own unquenched thirst caress my skin.
My clit screams for you, my wetness begging for you to taste and fill me. Instead, I lay as still as I'm able, ignoring my increasing urgency to grab you, feast upon your exquisite taste and feel your body hum for me.
Your lips follow that carefully crafted path, forged so delicately only moments before. A soft moan escapes my lips as you take my nipples, one at a time, so gently in your mouth, teasing them with a flick of your hot tongue before moving on quickly, leaving me wanting more.
I cannot help myself as your kisses fall ever closer to my now dripping pussy, my clit jumps and twitches as you kiss along my thigh, teasing me with a gentle kiss on my wet lips. You look up at me with devilish hunger in your eyes and in the warm candlelight; I see my wetness only briefly, glistening on your lips. Your tongue licks it away slowly, daring me to ask for more.
Suddenly I feel you, a solitary finger brushing through my hot, slick folds, so tantalisingly close to my aching clit and yet still so very far away. You bring your finger slowly to your lips, prolonging my fulfilment until I can't take anymore. As you taste my juices, I beg you to fill me, to fuck me hard, make me cum as you bury your tongue in my pussy.
"Eugh!" Jane mumbled from under her unruly hair as she tried to organise her lanky limbs.
Maura looked up, closing the journal and sliding it under her chair before watching her friend with a confused amusement.
"Are you ok?" she asked softly.
"Maura!" Jane sounded surprised as she slid off the couch, landing on the floor in a messy heap of limbs, hair and cushions.
Maura looked around slowly. "Yes?"
Jane sat up and stared at her slowly. "You're…. well, I mean… it's you."
Maura frowned. "Who else would it be?" the enquiry coming from a genuine desire to find out whom the brunette was anticipating.
Jane rubbed her eyes before brushing her hair out of her face, her eyes never leaving the well-presented doctor. Jane's mind ran with the images that had filled her dreams. That journal had given her more in three short paragraphs than she had felt in many, many months.
Resting her back on the couch cushions, Jane studied Maura, looking for any outward sign of the desires she had written about in the journal, any flicker of want or desire. She saw nothing there but confusion and the warm love and concern that radiated from Maura on a regular basis.
'And you say you can't lie' she thought, a smile creeping onto her face and calming her friends ever increasing worry.
"Are you sure you're alright?" Maura asked, watching as Jane pulled herself onto the sofa and continued to stare her at with goofy grin lighting up her face.
Jane nodded. "Yeah. I think I'm just fine." And in that moment lost in loving hazel eyes, Jane Rizzoli meant every letter of every word. Nothing could touch her, not Hoyt or any of the other crazed killers in Boston, not her mother, brothers or family dramas. In that moment she was totally at peace with herself and the world.
But the world had other plans for both Jane Rizzoli and Maura Isles.
