What if one day, I wake up and hate her?
…
Isla fusses Friday morning. She doesn't want to go to school for fear that Maura will be gone when she gets out. It takes a lot of convincing and pinky promises to get her to agree to go finally.
"Do not forget about me while I am gone," she says as Jane helps her into her backpack.
Maura makes sure to cross her heart twice.
"You're unforgettable, tiny," Jane says, straightening up.
"I second that," Maura agrees.
"I shouldn't be more than half an hour," Jane says. "There's fresh coffee on, but if you're in the mood for something fancier, I could-"
Maura waves her away. "Whatever you made will be fine," she says. "I'll be here when you return."
She watches them out the door and then settles herself at the kitchen table with her book and a cup of coffee.
She doesn't expect to be able to focus, after all, she'd been too jittery to read on the train to the city, but she finds herself lost in the pages in no time, and after what seems like mere seconds, Jane is stepping into the front hall.
She comes around the corner and smiles at Maura, with her cold mug of coffee and what must be a very shocked expression.
"What?" Jane asks, looking over her shoulder and back. "You okay?"
Maura does not know how to explain that she is more than okay, or that this is the first time in years that she's been able to sit still and focus her mind on something that is not work-related.
She doesn't know how to explain that while Jane was away, Maura was merely content to wait for her to come home.
She knew Jane would come home.
"I'm fine," she says. "I'm just fine."
And Jane steps forward to touch her fingers gently to a spot just under the doctor's ear. It is like she is checking her for substance. Maura can't get enough of it.
"Okay," Jane says, glancing at her coffee mug. "But still kind of a coffee snob."
A tease. So beautiful.
Maura smiles and pushes herself up from the table.
….
The first thing that she notices about Olivia Benson is how kind her eyes are.
The outing Jane has planned is a meeting with an SVU detective who works in the city. Dr. Royer had suggested that the two of them get together.
"She keeps asking me if I've gone, and I keep making excuses that I know she doesn't believe," Jane says as they make their way across town. "Pretty soon it will be too shameful to go back if I haven't met this woman."
Maura smiles, partly because it makes her happy when Jane jokes, and partly because she likes to think that her presence has given Jane the added bit of courage she needed to make the meeting happen.
As if she can read her thoughts, Jane offers her arm with a lopsided smile. "I'm glad you're coming with me," she says softly. "I didn't want to go alone."
Maura takes Jane's arm, knowing that her smile has turned a little giddy around the edges. "You never have to be alone, if that's not what you wish," she answers. "I will be here anytime you call."
"And for Isla too, right?"
Maura looks up at Jane and forces herself to resist the urge to kiss the shoulder close to her.
"For both of you," she promises. "For always."
Jane grins but doesn't answer, and the two of them walk for a while in silence. Maura likes the feeling of Jane beside her, arm linked loosely with hers. She is about to say so when Jane points ahead of them at a little cafe.
"That's where I said we could meet," she says, glancing sidelong at Maura. "They make an excellent chai if you still…"
"I still," Maura confirms. "You didn't have to think of me. Your comfort is my priority."
Jane holds the door open for her, and as she passes, Maura tries to discern the expression on her face. Is it contentment? Affection? She couldn't say. She decides not to overanalyze.
She decides she will have to recommit to that decision several more times during her visit.
Detective Olivia Benson is already there. She's sitting in a booth at the back of the cafe, facing the door, and when she spots them, she stands and lifts her hand in greeting.
She is shorter than Jane, maybe a little less fit, but her bearing still announces officer of the law without a doubt.
She shakes Jane's hand, and then Maura's and gestures them into the booth across from her.
"I hope here is okay," Jane says before the silence can become awkward. "I thought it might be...weird to meet in the precinct."
Olivia smiles, and Maura thinks she must put people immediately at ease.
"If you hadn't suggested it, I would have," Olivia says. "My office is fine, but it doesn't have a full-service coffee bar, and I wouldn't subject you to the break room's sludge if you were an enemy."
Jane grins. "I've had my share of breakroom sludge," she says.
Olivia nods, acknowledging. "I hope you'll forgive me," she says. "I read about your career. You were a force to be reckoned with."
Jane makes a motion with her shoulders like she's shrugging off a blanket. "Long time ago," she says.
"Not so long," Olivia says simply. "And most certainly not diminished by time."
Jane shakes her head and doesn't answer. She wants to say thank you, Maura knows, but humility and shame keep her from doing so.
Olivia doesn't press her. She smiles at Maura and asks her about her trip. If Maura wonders how this woman knows who she is, it is only briefly. If Jane's psychiatrist set up this meeting, then it is also possible that Jane gave permission for her to share details of her life.
Their coffees arrive moments later, and silence falls. Maura watches Jane wrap her hands around the mug in front of her, and waits for the relaxation that comes with something to occupy the detective's hands.
She is not disappointed.
They talk about nothing for almost half an hour. The crime in Boston. Detective Benson's promotion and her colleagues. Whether the effect of caffeine is more placebo or chemical. Olivia has a round, full laugh, that makes both the other women smile, and Maura can feel Jane becoming more and more comfortable as time wears on.
She wonders if she should excuse herself, if she's served her purpose, and should now make an exit and let the two women talk about more profound issues. Before she can decide, however, a mother and her young daughter enter, and both women watch as she navigates to the counter to order.
"When I adopted my son," Olivia says with a nod in their direction. "You could have just mainlined the caffeine directly into my bloodstream."
"Amen," Jane says with a snort. "How old is he? If you don't mind me asking."
Olivia's eyes tell Maura that the deeper conversation is about to begin. "Of course not," she says. "He's almost two. Noah. The light of my life."
Jane makes a neutral sound, and Olivia leans back in the booth. She is making herself less threatening.
"You have a child, right? Girl or boy?"
"A daughter," Jane pauses, a smile tugging the corner of her lips. "She's four."
"Going on Forty?" Olivia suggests.
Jane laughs. "You've met her, I see," she says. "Yes. She keeps me on my toes, that's for sure."
There is a silence, and Maura watches Detective Benson study Jane.
"Do you know why Dr. Royer wanted you to meet with me?" She asks after a moment.
Jane shrugs. "You deal with people like me every day," she says, frowning slightly. "Victims," she clarifies, spitting the word like it tastes bad. "Dr. Royer wants me to know I'm not alone."
"You are not alone," Olivia says quickly. She smiles briefly at Maura, who has opened her mouth to say the same thing.
"You're not alone, first of all," Olivia continues, "And you are not a victim. That's second."
Jane smiles as though she's heard this all before. "What's third?" she asks gamely.
"Well," Olivia's eyes crinkle when she grins. "The third thing is you're wrong. That's not why Dr. Royer wanted you to meet with me."
Jane glances around at Maura. "Okay," she says slowly.
"She wanted you to meet with me because of the way I was conceived. I am the child of rape." She says it so mildly that it takes Maura a moment for the words to sink in. She sees Jane go through the same mental double take a split second later.
"What?" she asks.
Olivia nods. "My biological father raped my mother. He didn't abduct or continually assault her," she clarifies. "He was a serial rapist. My mother was one of his victims."
Jane's whole body has gone still. Olivia looks over at Maura, gauging Jane's anxiety by how close the doctor sits.
"You know how Dr. Royer is," she continues after a moment. "She wants everyone to be able to make the decision to share their history."
Jane pulls in a deep breath, trying at a smile. "Yeah," she says. "Yeah...shit. I'm sorry."
"There's nothing to be sorry for. I never knew him. And he never hurt me."
Jane looks up into Olivia's face very suddenly. "Never?" she asks. "Not even indirectly?"
Maura looks away, trying to hide a smile, and so she only hears Detective Benson sigh.
"Okay," she says good-naturedly. "You caught me."
But Jane shakes her head. "I don't mean to catch you," she says. "I...I want to know. I…" She looks away and leans towards Maura. The movement is minute, but she catches it.
"I could…" Maura offers her hand, and Jane takes it without hesitation. The action makes Olivia smile.
"Did your mom tell you about what, I mean, did she tell you?"
Olivia's expression clouds over slightly. Maura knows that Jane can see it happen too, but she doesn't retract her question. Maura wants to tell her that she is still the bravest woman she knows, to do this for her daughter.
"My mother was not like you, Jane," Olivia says softly. "She didn't handle...my arrival very well. She drank a lot throughout my childhood. She," Olivia pauses, clearly trying to choose her words carefully. Jane's hand squeezes Maura's. "She had a lot of anger, I think now, in retrospect. And she took it out on me because I was the only other one there."
Jane has been holding her breath, and Maura feels her let it out now, slightly shaky.
"I'm...I mean, that's...awful," Jane says lowly.
"It was, at times," Olivia says honestly. "But...in the end, it does not define who I am. And it has not defined the type of mother I want to be."
Jane is silent for a long while, and Maura watches her digest the new information. She tilts her head to the side and bites her lip, and Maura stares at the line of her neck, wishing she could press her nose there. Wishing that it would offer comfort rather than cause a panic attack.
"Is that why you became an SVU detective?" Jane asks finally.
Olivia's expression clears. She grins at Jane. "Nothing gets by you, huh?" she jokes. "Yes. I suppose it is in some ways. I don't know what it feels like to be assaulted, but I know what it feels like to feel dirty, unwanted, alone...afraid."
Jane's hand is tightening in Maura's again. She squeezes back, hoping it's comforting.
"I never want her to feel that way," Jane says fiercely. "I never want my daughter to-"
"She won't," Olivia says at once. "She won't, Jane."
Quickly, the anger is replaced by a blanket of hopelessness. Jane's shoulders slump. "How do you know?" she asks quietly. "How do you-"
"Because you don't see her that way," Olivia answers. "You don't see her that way, and Maura doesn't see her that way, and the people you let into your life do nothing but love her and treat her like the beautiful little girl I know she is."
Jane uses her free hand to wipe at her eyes. "You don't know that."
Olivia chuckles. "Yes I do," she says easily. "I'm a detective, but it doesn't take one to see how much you love her. How much you want her."
Jane shakes her head. When she speaks again, she is whispering.
"What if one day I wake up," she asks quietly. "What if one day I wake up...and I hate her?"
Olivia doesn't recoil. She appraises Jane with warm, brown eyes, and her expression of understanding doesn't change.
"Why didn't you kill Dominic Bianchi?" She asks, leaning forward a little.
Jane looks at her, confused. "What?"
"I read the police report," Olivia explains. "I read how they found him when they raided the house. Just sitting at the dining room table. You stabbed him in self-defense, you gained control of his weapon, but you didn't kill him, Jane. Why not? No one in the entire world would have batted an eye if you had."
Jane is crying in earnest now. Maura rubs her fingers along her knuckles and resists the urge to make soothing noises like she would when Jane slept poorly after her rescue.
But, miracle of miracles, after a long, silent moment, Jane turns toward her and puts her head against the bend of the doctor's neck.
"Maura," she murmurs. "I-I couldn't." she exhales a breath against Maura's collarbone that makes the doctor come out in goosebumps.
"I d-didn't ask," Jane stammers. "I'm sorry."
There are tears on Maura's skin, on the silk of her blouse. She hopes they will burn themselves into permanence there. She does not ever want to forget this moment.
"You never need to ask, lovely," she says. "Do you want me to-"
"In my hair," Jane murmurs at once. "Can you?"
"Of course."
Maura's hand shakes slightly as she slides it into the hair at Jane's temple. "I'm right here," she whispers. "Darling. I'm right here."
"I couldn't," Jane says again, and it takes a moment for Maura to realize that she is answering Olivia's question about Dominic.
Olivia does not look put off by their intimacy. In fact, she looks like she could not be happier. "That's how you know, Jane," she says gently. "It's not in you. Your daughter is so, so lucky to have you. And you'll figure it out. I'm not worried, and you shouldn't be either."
….
….
Victim Interview - Second Attempt
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Interviewer (IN): Danielle D'Angelo, Ph.D., Staff Psychologist
Det. Jane C. Rizzoli (RES)
IN: Are you feeling a little more comfortable now, Jane?
RES: Yeah.
IN: Yes? Do you want to take more time? We can-
RES: No. It's fine. I-I'm sorry for freaking out.
IN: You have nothing to be sorry for. Do you remember what we were talking about before you dissociated? Do you remember what I asked you?
RES: ...No. Sorry.
IN: There's no need to apologize, Jane. We can take as much time as you need, okay?
RES: Yeah.
IN: We were talking about the last day that you spent with Dominic. You told me that in the last few weeks you were with him, he'd been letting you move around the apartment with your hands-free. This was because you'd gained his trust?
RES: Yeah. He...um...thought that I loved him finally.
IN: Okay. [speaking very slowly, carefully] I know that you didn't. I know that you didn't love him. But he believed you did, and so he began to give you more freedom. What happened the last day? The day you escaped.
RES: I...stabbed him. I escaped...I tried to, anyway.
[Silence exceeds two minutes: 2:32.05]
IN: Okay...You woke up. Right, Jane? You woke up that morning. Was Dominic there?
RES: N-no. He was already, um, he was up already, making breakfast.
IN: So you woke up in the bed alone?
RES: He didn't bind me anymore. I could get up on my own. I could get up whenever I wanted...I was bleeding.
IN: Where were you bleeding?
RES: It was - um - he was...he was hard...rough. The night before. He made breakfast, um, usually when he felt sorry.
IN: I see. So he was up, making breakfast. And you woke up. Then what happened?
RES: I got up and walked out into the hallway. I...saw myself. I saw myself in the mirror. I didn't have a shirt on. My hair was fucking disgusting. Sorry. Sorry. I'm sorry.
IN: I don't care if you swear, Jane. You can say whatever you want here.
RES: Don't lie.
IN: I'm not lying. There are no words that are off limits when we're talking. I just want to know what happened when you were gone. When you were with Dominic. I want to know about that last day.
RES: I told him I was leaving.
IN: Before breakfast, you told him this?
RES: I don't know why I said it. I knew it would make him angry.
IN: What did you say? Jane? What did you say?
[Respondent is crying] I told him I didn't love him.
IN: You told him the truth. It was the truth.
RES: He was setting the table for breakfast. I told him I didn't love him. I said he was a monster.
IN: What did he-
RES: The look on his face...He...I knew it would make him mad, but I didn't think that he would look like...that he…
IN: Jane, hey, look at me for a moment. Remember where you are? What happened after you told him you didn't love him?
[Silence exceeds one minute: 1:49.3]
RES: I said I was leaving.
IN: Did he let you leave?
RES: I made it almost to the front door. I almost...I made it to the front door...almost.
IN: And then he got mad?
RES: He grabbed this knife off of the side table, and just...he yelled and came at me. He looked...he looked so crazed.
IN: He cut your stomach, yes? The inner part of your upper thigh.
RES: He didn't know. It was probably already dead, but he didn't know.
IN: What didn't he know, Jane?
RES: He was crying too. That was my fault, right? His face was so red, and he was crying. And why didn't he kill me? Why didn't, h-he must have seen that I wanted...that I-
IN: Jane, calm down. It's okay. It's -
[Session interrupted by third party. Unknown Voice (UNK)]
UNK: I told you that if you induced another panic attack, this would be over.
IN: Dr. Isles, please. We need to get Detective Rizzoli's statement as soon as-
UNK: Sweetheart, look at me. Look, Jane. It's alright, darling. He's not here.
RES: Why did he just sit there? He just sat there looking like I'd...I stabbed him. I told him I wasn't ever coming back. He just-
IN: When, Jane? He didn't try to stop-
UNK: No! This interview is over. You've put her through over an hour of this. It is counterproductive to her health, and you are done.
RES: Maura?
UNK: Yes. I'm here, darling. Let's go home, okay? How about we just go home and watch some TV? Lie down for a while?"
RES: I'm so sorry. I'm sorry, Maura. I-
UNK: Hush, love. Let's go home. I'm right here, sweetheart. It's okay. I'm here.
IN: Doctor-
UNK: No. Nothing from you. If you don't like it, call her attorney.
…
...
They pick Isla up in the early afternoon, and the little girl runs toward them, overjoyed, gesturing wildly to the little gold star on her shirt.
"Look, Mommy!" She cries, letting Jane sweeping her off her feet. "I did it! I was a great girl."
Jane laughs into Isla's hair, and the sound squeezes around Maura's diaphragm until she is breathless with affection.
"You are the greatest," Jane says thickly. "I'm very proud of you."
Isla leans away from her mother, holding her arms out to Maura, face an adorable request for permission. Maura lets her swing from Jane's arms to her, and looking at Jane for any sign of anxiety, presses a kiss to the crown of her head.
"We're so proud of you," she says, only realizing after the fact that her attempt to keep away from the first person has made them sound like a couple.
Isla snuggles against her. "Good," she says. "Can we get ice cream? Please? I didn't even tattle on Jojo during nap."
They make their way as a little unit to the table where Isla needs to be signed out, and the teacher greets them brightly and hands the pen to Jane.
"What did Jojo do during the nap?" Maura asks as Jane leans down to look for her name.
"He pinched me."
Jane's hand with the pen in it freezes. She looks up. "What?"
"Jojo pinched me," Isla says again, oblivious to her mother's changing expression. "But we don't suppose to talk during nap."
Jane straightens, a frown creasing the spot between her eyebrows. "You can tell Jojo not to touch you," she says, clearly trying to keep herself from losing it. "That's okay, tiny."
Isla shakes her head. "Nope," she says. "No talkin. Iffa talk, get a silver star. No ice cream."
And Maura sees, in Jane's eyes, the moment she follows the logic to its natural conclusion.
This is Jane's fault.
She glances at Maura and then bends down to scratch her name next to Islas on the sign-out sheet. The teacher turns from another couple and smiles between them.
"Hello, Ms. Rizzoli! Isla was the picture of perfection today, I'm sure she told you already."
Her eyes fall on Maura. "Hi!" she says in the same bright tone. "I'm Sarah Gionne, the teacher's aide for the pre-k!"
"It's nice to meet you," Maura says distractedly.
"You too," Sarah says. "You know, let me go get you an information sheet. If you come to pick up Isla on your own, we need it on file."
She smiles into Maura's confused face before turning away.
"I know, it seems like overkill, but all mothers and fathers have to do it."
And that is when Maura realizes that this woman thinks she is Isla's second parent.
"Oh," she calls after the woman. "No, I-"
But Jane touches her elbow lightly. Her face is still cloudy with emotion, but she looks at Maura and smiles, just a little.
She shrugs. "Let her get the form."
…
…
Jane's physical body is gone from her house, but Maura still finds pieces of their life together around every turn. They hit her as hards as if they were the detective's actual remains, her ashes, scattered around the house.
She finds Jane's badge under the pillow in the guest room. Jane must have taken to sleeping with it. Would she pull it out when she was alone and look at it? What did it mean to her now? Why did having it close to her help her more than never seeing it again, and why didn't Maura ask her?
She strips the bed, intent on washing the sheets, but they smell like Jane, and she ends up sitting at the top of her stairs, wrapped in the top sheet, pressing her forehead to the cool wood of the banister.
Dominic's death is almost two months in the rearview mirror, what a fool she'd been to think that his end would help Jane heal.
Those nights when she held Jane's limp hand in her own and talked to her about choices and futures and promises, why hadn't she told her that his death was not her fault? Why hadn't she told Jane that she did not have to choose between extinguishing a potential life, and carrying on a legacy of violence?
One day, six weeks after Jane's departure from the house, in a fit of self-pity and anger, she'd removed all of the things that reminded her of the detective. The pictures, the bedsheets, the dress she'd been wearing during their first kiss, the potholder with the burn in the thumb from the first time they'd had sex.
The shampoo she used, and the lotion she needed to apply to her scars to keep them from itching, and the hair ties she's always refused to get rid of, though they were stretched beyond their elastic ability.
She worked for hours in a manic, diligent haze that she had not experienced since Medical School, and when she finally looked out a window, she realized that the sun had vanished, and wondered if it had disappeared for Jane, wherever she was.
Not once, on that day, or in the many that followed, did Maura even consider looking for Dominic's suicide letter.
The thought that Jane might have taken it never even occurred to her.
…
…
A hand on her knee wakes her up, and she turns her head to see Jane looking at her with wide, dark eyes.
"It's okay," Maura says automatically. "It's just me."
But Jane shakes her head, fully awake and completely lucid. "I'm sorry," she says. "I...wanted to talk to you about something. I'm sorry."
Maura sits up a little straighter. It is the second night they've fallen asleep on the couch, and her back weakly protests this burgeoning habit.
"It's fine," she says. "What is it?"
Jane is sitting cross-legged, facing her, and for a moment, she just looks down at her hands in her lap, lip between her teeth.
"Will you talk to Isla tomorrow?" she asks finally. "I mean...when we're at the zoo, will you find a second, a couple of minutes to talk to her alone?"
Maura frowns. "Talk to her about what, sweetheart?" she asks gently.
"About, um, agency," Jane says. "Uh, I mean, about like, when it's okay to break the rules for safety."
This is about naptime, Maura realizes. Jane has not forgotten at all.
"Oh," Maura says softly. "Jane, that wasn't your fault. You know that, right?"
Jane shakes her head. "I...don't want her to be confused," she says gruffly. "I...think it would be less confusing if it comes from you. If you tell her that...that what makes us most proud is when she sticks up for herself."
Maura leans forward so that she can see Jane's face in the light from the street.
"Darling," she murmurs.
Jane's eyes are wet. "I would have gotten her ice cream for even a silver star, Mo," she says. Her voice breaks a little on the last part of her sentence. "I...why doesn't she know that?"
"She does," Maura says, inching closer. "She does. She also knows that if she were in danger, or if something was really wrong, she could speak up without consequences."
Jane looks up at her, eyes drifting from her face to her clavicle, and lower.
She swallows. "Talk to her," she says heavily. "Just the same. Promise me you'll talk to her."
Maura nods. "I promise. I'll find some time tomorrow."
For a while they just sit there, looking at each other in the darkness. Maura can practically hear Jane at war with herself, holding herself back.
"Jane," she begins, but the brunette cuts her off suddenly.
"Is love just...deprivation?" she asks, voice hoarse. "Is it just...not doing things, because of love?"
Maura smiles sadly. She reaches out toward Jane until her hands are close enough to touch, and then she stops.
"God, I hope not," she whispers.
Maura's eyes are closed when Jane takes her hands and pulls them forward, pressing them against her own ribcage, underneath her shirt, against her skin.
Her eyes are closed, and so she can only hear the sharp intake of breath and the way it comes out like a sigh and a whimper.
"Please, just…" Jane tugs her closer until they are embracing. Those long, familiar fingers on Maura's shoulder blades make her feel as though she is floating. "Just…"
Maura shakes her head against Jane's shoulder. She lets her fingers map the skin of Jane's back, the ribs she can feel too well. "I can stop," she says and feels the forewarning wave of burning on her chest.
"I would stop for you," she says. "Just ask, love."
But Jane hugs her tighter and doesn't answer. She puts her mouth against Maura's neck, not like a kiss, but like she really wants to taste her, and it is impossible for the doctor to keep herself from moaning.
"Do you get wet for me?" Jane asks against her shoulder. "Maura? Do I turn you on."
She's not asking for sex. She's not even asking for any type of confirmation that isn't verbal.
"Yes," Maura says breathlessly. She doesn't curl her fingers into Jane's shoulder blades or tilt her hips up against Jane's pelvis like she might have done in the past.
She has never been turned on to the point of aching before.
She has never been like this, and not wanted to have an orgasm. Not until now.
"Maura," Jane has been moving her lips along her neck, saying her name between each stop, like after each time it meant something different.
"Mmm," Maura says. She presses the pad of her fingers gently against a particularly prominent rib. Vertebrocostal. Number four.
Tomorrow, she will make sure Jane eats more.
"Maura," Jane whispers right by her ear. "Maura, please?"
Maura nods. She pulls away briefly so that Jane can settle a blanket over the two of them on the couch. She puts her hand into Jane's hair without asking, though she makes sure the other woman sees it coming. She makes sure Jane has time to reject the movement if she wants.
She doesn't.
Maura closes her eyes.