At first, she hates it.
She tells Jane they need a new mattress and a week later it just shows up. They leave it in the living room, and the girls jump on it, thinking it's a trampoline installed just for them.
We'll move it Maur, Jane says nonchalantly, but then Sofia gets the chicken pox, and of course Isabelle is felled quickly afterwards. And her children are itchy and oozy and cranky. And they get up early and they go down late, and both she and Jane collapse into bed at night. On the old mattress of course. The new one stays right where it is.
And then they catch the case.
...
...
"Favorite…food"
"Honestly Jane, that's not even challenging."
"Go on then, Dr. Smartypants if you think you're so clever. Favorite food."
"Cheeseburger. The way I make it, French baguette bun, extra cheddar no pickles, mayonnaise, ketchup and a side of French fries."
Jane stares.
"And a Corona, though God knows why."
"How do you know that?"
"I know you."
Jane lies back on the mattress, looking up at the ceiling. Maura bites her lip. Feeling nervous.
"Jane?"
"Chicken Marsala, from Jorges, boxed and reheated in the oven, not on the stove. Side salad from Fresh Market, no dressing, and pinot anything, but usually grigio. And one fudge cluster."
Maura gapes, and Jane giggles.
"How do you-"
"I'm a detective," Jane says, wiggling her eyebrows.
And when Maura reaches out to swat her playfully, she doesn't flinch away.
...
...
Girls, captured and held against their will, made to marry men that they don't love? It gets to Jane. How could it not? Maura sees it in the way she's constantly rolling her shoulders. In how she closes her eyes when nobody's looking and in how she's constantly rubbing at her hands. What Maura doesn't expect is how the case gets to her.
Jane returns from the raid on the car dealership, the officers filing in behind her supporting twenty or so girls, and Jane beckons her over. "You speak Croation, Maura? We don't have time for a translator."
"Shtokavian. It's the basic dialect from which Croation, Serbian and-,"
"Maur, I said we don't have time to get a translator…"
"Right. I'm sorry."
She follows her wife to the back rooms.
They smell like sweat and blood and dirt, and they tell her their stories in broken sentences, that drip with apologies and tears.
Maura nods and nods, until her neck is sore.
She looks up for Jane who is across the room arms around a young woman, a child really, who is crying and crying.
She is repeating something over and over again, and although Jane doesn't understand, she is rubbing soothing circles into the woman's back, her long fingers strong and comforting.
Her brain catching up with her hearing, Maura is able make out what the girl is saying.
They sold me. They sold me.
...
...
"The kids are down?"
"Maura, you have to invent something to cure the chicken pox."
"Well there is a vaccine out already that-"
"And I'm just hearing about this now, because…"
"It's not been properly vetted, Jane. And in most cases it's used on young adults, to keep them from getting shingles in later life."
Jane grabs her beer and comes to sit next to Maura on the mattress. They haven't been on the couch in days.
But Maura doesn't care because Jane sits down closer than she would on the couch. Closer than she would even in bed, these days, and Maura can smell her shampoo.
The mattress is like an island. Like a vacation from their lives. They don't have to discuss anything heavy here. In fact, it's almost a rule that they don't.
"If you married someone else, I'd probably leave you a ton of crazy messages" Jane says out of nowhere, her voice light and casual.
Maura laughs, surprised and…flattered.
"No you wouldn't Jane, you don't have a neurological disorder."
Jane looks at her. "If you married someone else, I'd get one. Real quick."
Maura is too enthralled to tell Jane that's not how it works.
...
...
She shuts the door to her office and leans back against it. Trying to shut out their stories and compose herself enough to continue the autopsy. But it is difficult. She is not built for the kind of work that involves living breathing people. She is not like Jane.
She tries to focus her thoughts, tries to think logically. Laia was not one of the girls that Jane brought back from the dealership and the knowledge that she is still out there weighs on Maura like a physical weight.
What if all of her empirical evidence and analysis cannot bring Laia home, and she is sold off to the highest bidder. She would be a prisoner for the rest of her life, and no scientific procedure would be able to change that.
Maura rubs her hand on the back of her neck. She wants to believe it was science and reason and logical thinking that brought Jane back to her.
What if she's wrong?
A hard brisk knock comes on her door, and Maura turns around, taking a deep breath to collect herself, and opens it.
"Jane!" The detective strides in, pushing Maura backwards as she comes, pushing the door shut with her foot. "What is it, do you need me to come-" But her sentence is cut short by Jane's hug. Her arms pull Maura close without warning, holding on tight, and Maura responds at once, hugging back, resting her head on Jane's chest, nearly moaning as Jane's fingers slide into her hair. They have not been this close since…no wait, Maura catches herself. They were this close just last night.
"I'm sorry," She whispers against Maura's ear. "I shouldn't have made you do that."
Maura goes to speak, but Jane shakes her head, "Forgive me," she says.
And she bends and kisses Maura's cheek. Pulling back to meet her eyes. "Are you alright?"
She has never heard Jane ask it like that, so gently. Her dark eyes search Maura's face, concern in every line and dip of her features.
Maura takes a steadying breath. For the first time it dawns on her that it might be the mattress. That the mattress might be saving them.
"Yes. I am now."
...
...
She throws her phone to Jane, who sets it down next to her own on the counter, then picks up the bowl of popcorn and comes to sit down, cross legged next to her wife. "What are we watching?" She asks.
"Documentary on the single cell organism."
Jane nods, as Maura presses play. "Of course we are."
They don't talk about the case.
They don't talk about the fact that Laia is still missing, and they certainly do not discuss the similarities between what Cutthroat is doing and what Dominick has done.
They watch the TV.
And when Maura yawns, Jane reaches out and pulls her head down into her lap, fingers threading through her hair. She bends and presses a kiss to her temple, her free hand trailing up and down Maura's arm.
They do not talk about the fact that this is the most intimate they've been in months.
They are in their own little sanctuary.
Those topics are forbidden.
...
...
Later, Maura credits the mattress for the connection that saves Laia. They watch football on Thursday, Maura's penance for Tuesday's documentary, and Jane is trying to explain a play to her. Maura is not interested in the way the play works so much as she is in the way Jane's face lights up when she talks about it. The way that her hands fly through the air as she tries to explain it.
Caught up in the moment, Maura leans in and kisses the brunette on the cheek.
Jane stops mid-sentence, a curious smile on her face.
"What was that for?"
"You're beautiful when you're explaining things I don't understand," Maura says.
Jane looks torn between bashfulness and frustration.
"You still don't get it?"
"No. You need something like a dry erase marker so you can draw on the TV."
Jane chuckles, "Yeah, I could-" But her sentence ends there, and her face goes very, very pale.
"Jane?"
Nothing.
Maura tries desperately to think of anything that she's said that could have triggered a flashback.
"Jane, honey, can you-"
"Get up, Maur," Jane says suddenly.
"What?"
"Get up," Jane is already struggling to her feet, leaving the warmth and safety of their little island.
Only when Maura gets up and follows Jane into the front hall, does the detective turn around and say, "I know who Cutthroat is, Maura."
The medical examiner loves her for not spoiling their mattress with this news.
...
...
It's time to move it. The case is over, the girls are gone with Angela for the night, there's nothing stopping them from switching out the mattresses and dragging the old one to the corner by the dumpster. Instead, Jane grabs all the blankets and pillows off of their bed and makes them a massive nest in the living room.
"Camp out with me," she says, holding out her hand to pull Maura down, "The girls don't come back until tomorrow afternoon. We'll have plenty of time to move it in."
"Jane," Maura hesitates, not because she doesn't want to, but because she does. The Jane she encounters on their safe, downy square does not quite translate into real life yet. The mattress Jane reaches out for her, holds her, hugs her, just…because.
But Jane makes such a face, that Maura crumbles, letting herself be pulled down onto the mattress next to the brunette, who wraps them up in a blanket immediately.
She can't say exactly when idly playing with each other's fingers becomes hands exploring under shirts, becomes a frenzied pull at bra straps and belt buckles. Maura thinks that if she does not have Jane's skin closer, does not feel that tan and muscled leg slide between her own, she will go insane. "Jane," she says, pushing at the detective's tank top. "Jane, take this…I want this off. Please." Jane hesitates for the smallest moment, before pulling it up over her head, and looking down at Maura, her face scared and expectant.
In the blue glow of the television, Maura examines Jane's torso, reaching out to run her hands over the faint scars that still remain. Proof that Dominick happened.
"So beautiful," Maura breathes, and everything about her tone and her eyes and her fingers and her body, backs up the truth behind that statement. Jane shivers and bends, pressing her lips to Maura's, and the kiss is not one of comfort, or something done out of habit, but deep and long, and passionate.
It makes Maura moan.
When they get home to relieve Angela of her babysitting duties, she surprises them by offering to take the girls for the night.
"You've had a rough case of it, Frankie says, and…" Angela seems to choose her word carefully, "neither of you put yourselves directly in harm's way, thank God." She says this while throwing a questioning look at Jane, and it is clear that she is trying to be both 'normal' and loving.
Jane smiles, rolling her eyes, "Jeeze Ma, get off my back, okay?"
There is no bite in her voice.
Isabelle is still a little sick. Cranky and overtired, she has a hard time leaving her Mama. Jane picks her up, pulling the little head down onto her shoulder, shushing her as she whimpers, swaying back and forth.
She looks at Maura, and neither one of them has to say it. They are both seeing Laia, and Anja and the twenty other girls rescued from that place.
"I'll see you tomorrow Mama, swear?"
Jane smiles, "Pinky swear."
...
Jane growls as their hips meet, and Maura sighs and arches upwards, wrapping her arms around Jane's neck. Jane's hand is drawing lazy circles on her hip bone, but does not go any lower.
"Jane," Maura says, flexing her hips. "Honey…"
"Tell me what you want." Jane's voice is below a whisper. Just a ghost of the words.
"I want you."
"Tell me what you want from me." Jane says, looking down. "Tell me how I make it up to you?"
Maura feels a rush of panic rush over her. Jane is breaking the rules, calling reality into their sanctuary. She stares up with wide green eyes, trying to make sense of it.
"Maura," she whispers, and she knows what that whisper does to her wife. She uses it intentionally.
And Maura whimpers, pressing her hips up into Jane, "Come back to me," she gasps, feeling tears burn the back of her eyes as Jane's fingers run in circles lower and lower.
"You've come back to your job and your children. Come home to me now. Please, Jane. Please, I can't look at you every day and not have you. I want my wife back. I want my-my-Oh, God."
Her hips push up against Jane's fingers, pulling them into her, tightening around them almost immediately, as Jane kisses and bites at her earlobe. She resists her climax, wanting Jane to understand her. If they are going to break the rules then there is no going back. But Jane shakes her head, curling her fingers, making Maura cry out. "You've been so brave. And you've been so wonderful. It's alright baby. I'm here. I love you. Come on, sweet girl, come on." She whispers her love over and over, does not stop even as she feels Maura begin to shake, and she holds her through her climax. "I love you. I love you.
I'm home."
Maura pulls back as she comes down, still shuddering, wrapping her legs around Jane's waist as she pulls her fingers out.
"Come to bed with me," she whispers.
...
Jane knows what Maura is asking her. Come to bed with me. Be the same person in there that you are out here, on this stupid mattress. Come to bed with me. Come back to me. Come home to me.
Jane looks down at Maura underneath her, hair a mess, eyes hazy and seductive, still recovering.
Could you go over there and touch her? Could you do as she asks?
Jane presses her hands to the mattress on either side of Maura's head, like she's about to do a push up. Maura tightens her grip with her legs, grabbing a fistful of blanket in each hand and wrapping her arms around Jane as well, so that when the brunette stands, she looks like some x-rated superhero, blanket cape behind her and Maura wrapped around her front like a second skin. She stands with her wife in her arms, on the edge of the mattress, feeling Maura's lips on her neck and shoulder, her hips still moving, starting to work herself back up.
"Take me to bed," She mumbles in to Jane's shoulder. "please. Come back to me."
Could you? Could you come home?
Jane nods, and Maura's arms contract around her.
"Yes?" she breathes against Jane's shoulder, hardly daring to believe that it's true.
Jane moves at last, her legs carrying both of them towards to bedroom.
"Yes."
Okay you guys. this is late. But you know why? Because I've been working on it since literally 4pm last night (count out 4 hours of sleep). My documents folder is filled with half written docs titled, knife, knife2, finalofkifemaybe, anotherfuckingtryatknife. I'm not even kidding. This was a futhermucking b*tch to get out there. I hope you like it.
So here it is...I think maybe my fluff machine is broken...but it had to be done this way, and...i mean...to those of you who pmed me and were like...you never write fluff...yeah. I hope you'll stick around til thanksgiving, which is definitely fluffy.
Happy Tuesgay! to those in teh US who are planning to watch Rizzoli and Isles tonight!
to all of you who commented on the last chapter (there are so many of you!) thank you. Thank you so much. It's one of my favorites.
to the guest who says that in this and my first fic, Maura is always the one doing the comforting...I tried to make it evenish. The hard truth is that more shiz happens to jane... But the shooting at the precinct was all about Maura, and Jane does her fair share of comforting...i think. make a handle and come chat with me! I always want feedback.
Boo, you told me you want "normal family drama" this is the Rizzoli family. when do they ever...?
anyway. a couple completely AU chappies coming. Give our girls a break, yeah?
happy reading.
tc
