Chapter 9

~ Angela ~

"Who survives a building falling on them only to kill themselves?" I hear Tommy say from over his bowl of chicken noodle soup. It was always the kids' favorite comfort food, so I put a pot on right after we got the news this morning. "I don't get it," he adds as he takes a sip.

We're all around one small table in the café – Tommy, Frankie, Jane and Sgt. Korsak. Everyone, but Janie, has a bowl of soup – she's so stubborn sometimes.

"His mom mentioned something," Korsak says and everyone turns to him. "She didn't say much. Just that he's had bouts with being down, but she never expected something like this."

"She didn't say anything else?" I ask.

He shakes his head. "Nope. Right after that she said she and Robin were leaving to come here. Maybe when she gets in she might say more. I didn't wanna push."

"I don't blame you," I say before Jane can start insist Korsak provide more info when he doesn't have any to give. She's so on-edge right now.

"Based on how she sounded though," Korsak continues, "he had trouble with depression in the past, but she thought he was beyond it. At least, that's the way I took her comment."

"Obviously, he wasn't beyond it," Tommy adds. It wasn't a smart-alec comment. I could hear the pain in his voice. Jane, however…

"Really, Einstein?" she snaps.

"What?" Tommy says defensively, "I only mean it's a waste, ya know? It's just sad. He was a cool guy. He talked me through that collapse when I started to freak-out over TJ. I can't see why he'd wanna die is all. Heck, he listened to me ramble for hours in that garage. I woulda been happy to return the favor; anytime he wanted. All he had to do was call – he had my number."

A small silence fills the space around the table.

"He never said anything to me," Jane remarks. She looks like she's not fully involved in the conversation anymore. Her mind is elsewhere. "Not once," she adds softly.

"Sweetie, why don't you have some soup too?" I plead to her. I know she's not hungry but eating something might occupy her thoughts for a moment or two. She won't spend every moment beating herself up.

"Ma, don't ask me again. I'm not a baby who needs soup, okay? Soup is not going to help me figure out how I missed the fact he was in that much pain."

"How could you know?" I ask her. "How could any of us know?! Think about it: If he had issues, he never once said a word to us. And even if he did have serious issues, could he really say something to someone?"

"He coulda talked to me, Ma," Jane insists.

"That's not what I meant," I tell her. I'm getting frustrated too because she's interrupting before I can finish. She's just not listening.

"What do you mean, Ma?" Frankie asks with a sense of neutrality we all need right now.

"I know I haven't been around here as long as you and Janie," I begin, "but I see the weight cops have to haul around. If any of them admitted they needed 'help' would anyone here take it as something to be proud of? No. I don't think they would. They woulda criticized him. If he said anything about being down it coulda prevent him from promotions or-or people would see him as 'unstable' and a guy who 'can't cut it'."

"I don't think that's true," Frankie replies.

"I do," I tell him. "I see the tough cop act here. I've seen it from both of you! I'm looking at it right now! Sometimes carrying all that armor around gets heavy, and when you admit it's hard, some people see you as weak. Of course, not me. I think it means you're human. But some in the department do, I'm sure."

"Ma," Jane sighs in frustration.

"She's right, Rizzoli," a voice says behind me.

Everyone looks over to see Sean standing there with Maura, just inside the café doors. I'm surprised he's here, but I'm happy just the same.

"Speaking for myself, I never would take a cop asking for help lightly," he adds.

"We know that, Sean," Korsak says immediately.

"Good, but ya know as well as I do, a lot of commanders see it as a weakness. That's why cops suffer and don't say a word. I was fortunate when I was pushed to the breaking point – I had a commander who looked out for his men. I always thought Frost knew he had that too, but… well, like Angela said – there is a stigma; not just on the force, but everywhere."

"It's not like it used to be," Korsak replies. "There's a ways to go, no doubt, but it's gotten better."

"Somewhat," Sean agrees. "But yeah, there's a way to go yet."

"I think help is there," Jane says. "You just have to ask for it."

"That's not always easy," Maura replies. "Many view illness of the mind much more harshly, and to a certain extent, inconsequential when compared with other types of ailments."

"I wouldn't," Jane replies with a touch of a harsh tone.

"I know," Maura tells her. "But you've always been more extraordinary than most people."

Janie turns around with a look like she wants to go a few rounds. I've seen that look and I'd really hate for her to open her mouth and hurt Maura 'cause she's hurting. I'm glad though when she sees Maura's sincere, warm smile, and I'm thankfully that she mellows out.

"Trying to get on my good side?" Jane grins for a moment.

"Just stating what needs to be said," Maura replies. "Because I'm willing to bet if Det. Korsak said he had cancer, everyone would take up a donation; they'd ask how they could help; they'd offer their support. But if he said it was unipolar disorder – meaning major depression – the reaction from co-workers would be much different. Rather than having a network, he would probably feel more isolated or even ostracized."

"You know," Jane replies, "I'd like to argue and say you're wrong, but your right. People do look down on it."

"They do. And that's why people don't talk," Maura says softly. "What's ironic is more Americans suffer from depression than the 17 million with coronary heart disease, the 12 million with cancer and one million with HIV/AIDS. Depression is deadly and much more rampant than people realize."

"Really?" Frankie says. "More people have depression than those other things?"

"Yes." Maura nods. "So your mother's assessment is correct. It's extremely dangerous, but people simply don't talk about it out of fear."

I look over to see that Sean looks tired; worn…and it's not even noon.

"Lieutenant?" I say to get his attention. I always try to call him by his rank at work in front of others. "I've got some pastries in the back for everyone ready to come out. Think you could give me a hand? I'll give you first dibs."

"Sure," he says. I'm thankful he sees that I'm trying to move him away from the group for a bit. He follows me as I wave him toward the back.

"How are you?" I ask him once we're alone in the kitchen area.

"I'm okay," he says.

"That's not armor coated, tough cop talk, is it?" I tease with a small grin.

He grins slightly too. "No. I really am okay in this moment. When I'm back in my office… well, it might be a different story. I'm just taking things minute by minute."

"Sometimes that's the best approach," I say as I turn to the oven and pull out three pans of coffee cakes.

"Hey, my favorite," he says with a smile.

"I know," I reply with a knowing grin. "That's why I made them. Rizzoli's have their soup - figured you could use some comfort food today too."

"You know, when Dr. Isles said she was coming here, I wasn't sure if I should tag along."

"Why not?" I ask. "You didn't want to see me?"

"I know all of you loved Det. Frost and I didn't wanna… get in the way of the family."

"I like having you as part of my family, Sean. I like… having you in my life. You make me happy."

I watch that adorable Irish mug of his blush slightly. He takes a few steps closer and puts his hands on my hips.

"Coffee cake or not," he tells me, "being around you is what really makes me feel 'okay'; like I'll make it to the next minute."

I know we're always so up in the air – together, apart, together, apart – sometimes I swear I'm back in high school with my first romance… but he's worth it. And I know he's in pain today.

I reach up and place my fingertips on either side of his cheeks and pull him down for a gentle kiss on the lips which he returns. It's not loaded with passion or excitement. It's one of those kisses that feel like a whisper, but touches a deep part of your soul. One that says everything is going to be alright.

I pull back to find him smiling at me. I nod toward the cakes and say, "Help me get them on the cooling rakes, would ya?"

"Sure," he says as he grabs an oven mitt.

We both turn though when we hear the sound of the door open. There's my eldest.

"You got any soup left, Ma?" she asks as she holds out her bowl.

I can't prove it, but I'm sure Maura convinced her.

"Coming right up, Sweetie," I tell her.

It's good to see that Jane Rizzoli knows when she needs comfort too.

TBC