The car ride back to Jane's after work was unbearably stifling. Maura didn't talk. She settled into her seat and stared idly out of the window, an unmistakably sad expression painted onto her face. Jane didn't even bother putting on the radio. She could turn it to Maura's favorite stations and she didn't anticipate it getting Maura to talk to her any sooner. Instead they rode in uncomfortable silence, their minds filled with their own worries. Being back at the apartment didn't seem anymore promising. Maura left to change in Jane's bedroom and Jane sat lazily down on the couch, Jo Friday hopping upon her lap and giving little puppy kisses. She pushed Jo off and laid her body flat on the couch, letting her bones settle.
She wanted to talk to Maura about everything. Jane was hoping that Constance would take some time to think about what she wanted to say to her daughter. Quite honestly, Jane was terrified of what Constance said at all – she could have easily thrown Jane under the bus for interfering with the whole situation, told Maura lists of lies and there was little Jane could do if Maura wasn't speaking to her. On top of not knowing what to say about Hope, Jane had absolutely zero idea what to do about Patrick. The fact was, Patrick chose his words very carefully that night. He loved Hope. There was no denying that. Jane knew, deep in her heart, that Patrick Doyle walked every single day with Hope Burke right next to him. So why did he say that Maura looked at Jane the same way he looked at Hope?
Jane understood what he was implying; that Maura, her best friend, was in love with her. The idea seemed laughable. Jane squirmed at the idea. Maura wasn't in love with her. Jane wasn't in love with Maura. They were best friends. Jane thought back to the few girl friendships she had had in her life; admittedly, there were very few. She had always preferred playing basketball with the boys than barbies with the girls. Some even wondered if Jane was the youngest of the Rizzoli children and merely mimicked her boy older brothers. When they found out that she was the oldest, they always gave her passing glances, as if had she been the youngest, her behavior would have been acceptable. Jane just didn't like spending time with girl friends. They never had much in common, and Jane – well, she wanted to be a cop. The idea that she and Maura's friendship wasn't normal caught her by surprise. Did they really appear to others as if they were in love? She laughed out loud a little, hoping that Maura didn't hear her.
"Jane?" Shit, thought Jane. She turned around and Maura stood before her, timidly standing in the doorway of Jane's bedroom. Her head was cocked to one side and she was tracing the lines in the carpet with her bare toe, a nervous habit Jane had spotted on several occasions. "I'm sorry," she said quietly.
"Don't." Jane held up her hand. "I should have told you. I was hoping Constance would talk with you, though. I thought it should come from her."
"You were right. It should have came from her. A long time ago, actually."
"You okay?"
Maura nodded and walked to the couch, taking a seat next to Jane and crossing her legs. "Do you know where Hope is now?"
"Not on hand, but I can get it." Maura stayed quiet. "Maur, do you want me to get a telephone number or an address or-"
"No" she said clearly. "Not right now. I just... can't." Maura unclenched her fist to reveal the small piece of paper Jane noticed her picking up before she left the shop. It laid in the palm of her hand and Maura didn't say anything. She only stared. Jane wanted to ask but she refrained, giving Maura the time to think. "Hope wrote this to my mother when she left me. I haven't read it yet. I wanted to, but..."
"Read it when you're ready."
"I'm ready." Maura said hesitantly, a small blush creeping up her cheeks. "I just wanted you here to read it with me."
Jane shifted uncomfortably and looked at her friend, her mind jumping rapidly from thought to thought. Maura was still looking down at the letter, a lackluster smile playing against her lips. "Are you sure about that?" asked Jane. "I mean, it's really personal – I would understand, you know, if you wanted to keep it private."
"I don't know a lot about families." she started. "I think now I know even less than I did a few hours ago. But you, Jane..." Maura's hand crept over to Jane's. "You are the only one who has ever been honest with me. You're the only one who has always had my best intentions in mind. And I know sometimes I forget that, but you're my best friend." she paused. "You're my family, Jane. And whatever is in this letter," Maura held it up, a bit towards the light, and peered at it only for a moment. "It doesn't change the fact that every Sunday, I eat dinner with your family. It won't change the fact that I spend more nights with you than alone. Whatever is in this letter," she said softly, again gazing down at it. It turned between her fingers. "It may or may not give me answers. But I'm starting to realize I have everything I need."
Jane pulled her hand back and nodded. "Let's read it then,"
"Here we go," Maura took a deep breath and unfolded the paper. It was old and fragile. She could tell it had been read many times. Her mind wandered to a younger version of Constance walking down a staircase only to find baby Maura laying in a basinet. How many times did she read the letter? The folds were etched permanently into the paper and, in the weakest areas, there were small tears. She was careful not to rip anything else. It felt like glass between her fingers. Finally smooth, slanted cursive was revealed to her; it was writing very similar to her own, with only a few miniscule differences here and there. "To my dear sister," began Maura, her voice thick and gravelly. She could already feel the tears building.
"I will never be able to thank you enough for what you're doing for Patrick and I. Maura is very beautiful, isn't she? I can't tell if she looks more like Patrick or myself. Part of me wishes that I could stay and watch her grow up because I have no doubt she will be as beautiful outside as she will be inside, much like you are.
We never did get the chance to properly get to know one another. I think our only mutual interest is in hating our father as much as we both do. I know he wronged you. I am living proof of that. Again, I don't think I could ever begin to show you my appreciation for you not shunning me as the product of our father's infidelity. You've only shown me the most love and support, even in the times that I wasn't allowed to see you or talk to you. We grew up in two separate worlds but I've always wondered if we were more alike that either of us knew. I wish we had the time to find out.
Maura is better off with you. I've only ever dreamed of school and growing old with my books and writings. She wouldn't do good with me, and she would be even less well off with Patrick. He is a good man, Constance. I hope that you know that. And he is Maura's father, because I know with that head of yours, the wheels are already turning. Patrick is Maura's father, but putting his name on the birth certificate would cause more harm than it would good. She's yours now. You are her mother, and your sweet Lawrence her father. Neither I or Patrick can be a part of that now.
Please understand that I love her very much. I just can't give her all the love that she needs. I'm not good for her, or right. I'm too young. I'm too careless. I don't know the first thing about being a mother or a caretaker. I've been told I have a surprisingly steep learning curve, but I think motherhood is a science beyond my reach.
I know I've asked so much of you already, Constance, but I ask just one more thing. Never tell Maura who I am. I feel like it would bring too much pain to a child that deserves all that this world can offer. She doesn't need to know that I am your sister and her mother. If you will, forget that I am your sister at all. Forget, please, not for me, but for Maura. Forget Patrick and the time that I spent at your home, as lovely as it was. Let Maura experience all the good in the world. By giving her to you, I am trying to prevent her from experiencing the bad.
Thank you, Constance.
Bricks seemed to beat against Maura's heart. She crumpled next to Jane much like the paper in her hands; weak and torn. Jane pulled the shorter girl to her, letting Maura's tears soak against the thin cotton fabric of her t-shirt. Maura's shoulders shook, her entire body convulsing in heavy, heart wrenching sobs. "Hey," Jane whispered softly. "Hey, come on."
"I don't know why I'm crying." her voice was muffled against Jane's shoulder.
"It's okay to cry."
"She didn't want me."
"That's not true. She loved you. She gave you to Constance because she loved you, Maur."
Maura pulled away and swatted at her tears. "She sounds bright," she said quietly. "She liked science."
"Like mother, like daughter." muttered Jane.
"I want to find her, Jane. I need to ask her why she didn't want anything to do with me. If she loved me so much, why just give me away like that? Why not at least be a part of my life? Why beg my mother to lie? Find her, Jane."
"I'll get you a phone number tomorrow."
A long silence fell between the two. Maura nestled herself against Jane, her head spinning. She wasn't sure if she could ever sleep again. Too many voices were speaking to her in her head, each with a different question that she hadn't asked herself yet. Most were about Hope and her life, but just as many were about the person whose shoulder she was resting her head on. For days Maura had gone through her head attempting to sort out her more-than-sisterly feelings for Jane. She found herself more concerned with her feelings by the day. At times she wondered if she was merely latching on to the closest thing she had to a real relationship and turning it into something it wasn't and something she didn't want it to be. She always fell back on this logic; it's just your biological clock, Maura. You just want to find a lifelong mate. This isn't the movies. You don't always get what you want. She shook the thought from her head.
"Jane?" Maura pulled away from Jane's side and sat up straight, turning her head to look at the dark haired girl next to her. "I was wondering if I could ask you something."
"Okay," said Jane slowly.
Just as Maura opened her mouth to speak, a thud on the door pulled their eyes away from each other. Maura was the first to stand up; she pointed to the bathroom and walked away quickly leaving Jane in a befuddled state on the couch. A second thud, this time heavier and louder, startled her up from her seat. She grabbed her gun and cracked the door open just enough. What stood before her barely surprised her; if anything, it only caused her heart to rip violently from her chest. Jane's dark brown eyes took in the sullen Agent Gabriel Dean, his hair a dark messy brown that Jane once thought of with fondness and a strange urge to run her fingers through. Now it only repulsed her. She turned to slam the door straight in his face but he wedged his foot in before the door could close.
"I hope that hurt." she said bluntly.
"Just talk to me."
Jane looked over her shoulder, hoping that Maura would stay in the bathroom long enough for her to get rid of Dean. "I don't want to talk to you, Dean. That's why I blocked your number." She shoved harder on the door. "Go."
"I deserve to be heard."
"And I deserved respect." she hissed.
"You think I didn't respect you?" Jane cringed at how loud his voice had risen. "I went there to protect you, Jane! You and your team. And I was doing my job. It's my job to catch Patrick Doyle."
"Don't play the job card on me, Dean." she scoffed. "I know what this job is."
"You would have let Doyle walk out of there!"
"How'd you know I was there?"
"What?"
"I never told you where we were going." Jane said smoothly. "Never said we had a lead. You weren't on that case, Dean. The only thing I told you was that Doyle was in town and that I was handling it. So how did you know we set that trap? How did you know where we were?" Dean remained silent. "You GPS tracked my car. I found the tracker under my car. You feds think you're really smart," Jane laughed and folded her arms across her chest. "Are you still going to say you respect me?"
"You would have let Doyle walk." Dean said through clenched teeth.
Jane shook her head serenely. "You have no idea what I would have done. You don't know me. And you know," she chuckled. "I don't know you, Gabriel. Unfortunately the only part I know of you is Agent Dean. I'm starting to wonder if that's the only part of you that exists."
"What are you doing here?" Jane whipped around to come face to face with Maura. She hadn't heard her come out of the bathroom, which made Jane wonder if she had done it so quietly as to not alert Jane or if Jane was really so deaf she could only hear the thudding of her own panicked, angry heart. Dean's face was void of any readable emotion. He stood firmly in the doorway, eyes glazed and still staring wildly at Jane.
Jane cleared her throat. "He's leaving."
"You didn't say she was here," said Dean quietly, eyes still not moving from Jane's. "I thought..." he trailed off. "I had heard..." Finally he looked over at Maura. "I'm sorry," he said weakly. "For shooting Doyle."
"No you're not.' said Maura. "But thank you."
"I think you should go." spoke Jane.
"We haven't really talked." he replied.
"There is nothing to talk about."
"Jane, please."
"Go ahead, Jane." muttered Maura. Jane stared at her incredulously. "Really." she insisted. Jane slowly tore her eyes from Maura and looked back at Dean, a small light flicking behind his eyes as he watched Jane walk over to him. She looked him up and down from his messy hair to his scuffed shoes. There wasn't a single part of Jane that wanted anything to do with him.
She didn't smile. She didn't frown. Jane stared monotonously at her former lover and cocked her head to the side. "I really think you should go." This time Dean knew he was defeated. He turned around, one of his hands ruffling his hair, and walked straight towards the elevator down the hall. Jane watched him go, mostly because she wanted to make sure he got on and stayed on. When the elevator doors shut and Dean was gone, Jane shut the door and turned back to Maura. She was standing where Jane had left her, her face a little bit downtrodden. One of her hands gripped her opposite arm tightly. Maura stared back at Jane.
"If you love him, I won't be mad." she said firmly. "I don't want you to choose between us."
"It wasn't a choice." Jane responded. "There is right and then there is wrong. Dean is all wrong."
"As a person?" asked Maura. "Or... a lover?"
Jane froze and raised an eyebrow to Maura's question. If Dean was wrong, by Jane's decision Maura was right. And by saying Dean was wrong as a lover... kicking her shoes off to the side, Jane swallowed hard and laughed. "You said to me once that you didn't want to do anything to compromise our friendship. You liked Tommy, but you loved me." Jane walked a little closer to Maura. "You didn't want me to hate you for dating Tommy. It's kind of like that, but..." pausing long enough to side step Maura and walked into the kitchen, Jane finished: "I don't like Dean. I'm not choosing you over him. I'm just picking what's right for me. Wine?" she held up a bottle. Maura smiled and sauntered over to the kitchen counter, slipping easily onto the barstool and letting her head rest in her hands.
"Thank you." she whispered.
"For what?"
"Choosing me."
Rainbow colored lollipops for everyone!
