between your ribs


Thank you all so much for your kind words on the last chapter. I'm sorry in advance if over the next month the updates are really slow - I have a lot of university work to do and, obviously, Christmas is right around the corner, so I won't have as much time to write as I normally would. I hope you stick with me anyway!


Chapter Eleven:

November 16th, 2015.


Maura is in the precinct.

Jane's knee bounces with agitation as she sits at her desk. Paperwork. She's doing paperwork when Maura is in the same building as her.

"Why don't you go see her? She'll probably appreciate that."

Korsak's voice slices through the silence that has descended upon homicide – it's a slow day, which only serves to torture her more. She's been staring at the clock for what feels like years, desperate for the hands to tick a little faster. Unsure as to whether she needs to get away as fast as she can or stay here, near Maura, forever.

"You don't get it, Korsak. She wouldn't."

She stops her knee from bouncing and focuses back on her computer screen. Paperwork. Grinding, mundane paperwork. She's been through the motions of it more than enough times for it to numb her brain from thought, until she becomes something that simply selects which buttons to click. But. Maura. When it comes to Maura. There is no numbing that.

"I don't get it because you won't talk about it," Korsak says. "And I get that. The only person you ever really talked to was her, and how can you talk to her about the problems you both have?"

"Korsak – "

"Jane," he sighs. "I'm going down there. I'm going to talk to her. Come if you want. You can't run away forever."


They say that the department is offering Maura her job back.

The rumour can't possibly true. It doesn't sit well in her brain. How will Maura come back, if she insists on being distant? And what about Doctor Howell, who took her job when Maura went missing?

Jane sighs and heads down to the cafeteria for a coffee –

And immediately bumps into Doctor Howell in the elevator.

"Detective," she greets her. "I suppose you've heard the news."

"What news?"

Anyone else would've rolled their eyes. Howell remains plain as ever.

"Doctor Isles has been offered her job back. Head medical examiner of the commonwealth of Massachusetts."

"What about you?" Jane asks. "You're a good ME. They can't just drop you."

Howell smirks. "Detective, I've never been fired from a job in my life."

The elevators open on the ground floor, and Howell steps out as Jane remains stuck still. She frowns as Howell turns back to look at her over her shoulder, eyebrows raised.

"Susie told me Maura was loved in this precinct. And still is. Why would I ever neglect someone a loving home?"


Maura looks beautiful.

Everything about her is like the version of herself she had been before the abduction. A silk blouse, straight black trousers, heels that she'll never understand the comfort of and a smart blazer pulled over her outfit. Her hair is pulled back in a complicated bun she remembers watching her do some mornings, in the rare moments Maura had been running a couple minutes late and she had stood eating breakfast in her kitchen.

Maura's hands wrap around the ceramic of the mug Angela offers her. Jane pauses, watching from the lobby, as Maura smiles up at her in thanks. She is more than beautiful.

Korsak reaches over to squeeze her hand and the contact seems to surprise Maura. After all this time, Jane still can't quite believe that Maura doubts the fact that she has friends here – not just friends of convenience, or co-workers, or friends of friends. Just. Friends.

Jane turns away.

This is not her moment.


She ends up in the morgue.

Bodies have been piled away where they should be, a couple lab assistants running last minute checks on cases they'd completed last week. Other than that, the morgue is blissfully empty. Slow days can have their benefits, she supposes.

Jane lets one of her fingers run along the edge of one of the empty tables. Frankie had laid on this very one, and Maura had performed a surgery she'd never felt comfortable to before on him because Jane had asked. She'd saved his life. And risked her career in the process.

How many times has she stood in this very room with Maura? She had begun to think of this place as hers. When Howell had begun working here, it had felt like someone had broken in, taken apart the locks Maura had left on the place and left their fingerprints on everything. Files organised in ways Maura never had; equipment left in different places – Howell was even left handed, so the way she had performed everything had been the opposite way that Maura had.

This had been Maura's once.

She tries not to think about the time she thought she'd see her laying here on this table.


March 8th, 2015


Everything is spinning.

The inky night spills ahead of her ceaselessly and she follows it, her pulse beating staccato in her ears. Her feet are heavy and sink deep into the mud with each step while her hands curl around the set of keys she holds in her hands. They dig sharply into her fingers. Did she lock her car? How long has she been walking? How long until the end? When she reaches the end, and finally stands still, will she sink into this sodden mud too?

"Detective Rizzoli. Thank you for coming," it's a voice, but it's distant. She wanders towards it aimlessly and it sweeps a hand in front of it. "Doctor Wiley can lead you to the body."

The medical examiner swims into her view. Deep brown eyes, a crease in the skin forming above them. Her lips downturn and something stops Jane from moving. Finally. Maybe she'll just keep sinking and sinking and then this whole nightmare will be over. Maybe then she will finally be able to sleep, reaching for Maura.

"Are you alright, Detective?"

"Where's the body?" It comes out raw.

She needs to know. Needs to know if it's Maura laying there. In the ground.

They'd called her at two in the morning, when the rest of the world was sleeping, and she was awake on her fifth coffee with trembling hands reading Maura's file for what felt like the three hundredth time. They had called. And they had said, matches physical appearance. And almost four months of decomposition. And could you ID the body, Detective? As if they had no idea. As if they had not known. That this is not just a body.

Almost four months of decomposition.

Maura, decaying and alone.

Everything is spinning.

"Follow me, Detective."

The medical examiner stops, and for a moment Jane does nothing. Stares blankly ahead. She cannot look. If she looks. That makes it real.

If she closes her eyes. Imagines Maura bright and alive. Then that is real instead.

"Detective?"

When Jane collects herself, she finds the medical examiner has lead her to the end of a shallow grave. Only a couple feet deep. Is this all they thought Maura deserves? God, no. They couldn't be more wrong. She will dig through this mud with her own hands to give Maura everything she couldn't before.

"Detective Rizzoli," Doctor Wiley. Distant and quiet. "Is this Maura Isles?"

She crouches. Places one hand on the ground. Soil seeps through the spaces between her fingers.

The body is small enough to be Maura.

For one small moment.

She almost thinks it is.


November 16th, 2015


Water.

She needs water.

Her skin is clammy and gross, the memory of that body too fresh and strong and she bursts out of the morgue. One of the lab technicians looks up at her strangely but she moves past in a blur, headed towards the nearest toilets. She just needs to splash a little water on her face. Calm down for a second. Then she can go back and complete that paperwork and leave here, go back to her lonely apartment with Jo Friday and takeout.

There's crying. When she walks into the toilets.

Jane groans, resting her head back against the door. Whoever it is, they've heard her come in now, she can't just leave.

She heads over to the sinks, begins running the water and allows it to soothe her palms. It's nice and cool, and she runs her wet hands over her face, lets it smooth out the parts of her that are rough and damaged. Repeats to herself just do the paperwork and go home, again and again in her mind, until the images of the rotten body have escaped her.

The crying grows louder. Followed by startled, panicked breaths.

Damn it.

"Hello?" She knocks on the cubicle door they've locked themselves in. "Everything okay?"

The noises stop. For a moment.

"Hello?"

The cubicle door drifts open, and she finds Maura stood behind it. The toilet lid down, so that when she sees that Jane has registered who it is, she can sit back down and reach for the tissue paper again.

"Maura…"

Without thinking, she steps in and locks the cubicle door behind her. Maura's breath hitches before it launches back into a shallow and sporadic pattern again, the tears rolling fresh down her cheeks. Jane flounders for a moment, uncertain of how close to move, before she opts for squatting down in front of her, resting her hands on Maura's knees. The contact makes Maura jerk but she refuses to move away. She needs this. She needs this push.

"What's wrong, Maura?" It's a loaded question. Maura simply shakes her head.

Her blazer hangs on the back of the cubicle door along with her bag, blouse untucked from her pants. The beautiful, put together woman from earlier has shed her layers and revealed her vulnerable underbelly.

No.

No. She is no less beautiful now than before.

"Maura. You've got to talk to me. If you want me to help," she coaxes her gently.

"Panic attack," Maura gasps, grabbing and holding on to one of Jane's hands tightly. It hurts, but she allows it. "Fast heart rate, shallow and irregular breathing, sense of fear – "

"I understand, Maur. You don't have to give me the Gray's Anatomy definition," she tries to joke but it falls flat. "What do you need? Some water? I don't – I don't know what to do here."

"No water," Maura shakes her head. "I don't – want that. I want. I don't. Jane."

"Shh. Shh, it's okay," Jane whispers, blinking away tears that threaten to rise in her own eyes. "How about – we face what set this off. What set it off, Maura?"

Maura shakes her head again. "I don't want to talk about that."

"Okay. That's okay," Jane assures her. "Want me to help you take your mind off of it instead? Why don't you try slowing down your breathing, hmm?"

Maura places a hand on her own chest, eyes closing as she attempts to slow her breathing. Her other hand squeezes Jane's again.

"There you go," Jane encourages. "In and out. Nice and slow. Ten seconds each time, okay?"

Maura follows her instructions, and attempts to slow her breathing. She keeps her eyes closed, and Jane thinks that she understands why, even if Maura doesn't. Why look the source of your fear in the eye when it's the very thing you're running away from?

"Do you remember, when we met, how we didn't click right away?"

A hint of a smile tugs at Maura's lips.

"I was working for Narcotics. You thought I was a hooker. I think I can take it as a compliment to my acting skills that you bought that lie so convincingly."

"You weren't acting in the precinct," Maura points out, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue.

Jane smiles. "Maybe not. I can be quite nasty when I want to be, huh?"

Something flickers behind Maura's eyes, so Jane diverts the topic immediately.

"You know, I went through your entire music collection while you were gone."

The sentence steals Maura's breath. "You did?"

"I did."

Two months after Maura had disappeared she had sat in her front room listening to disc after disc. It hadn't helped soothe things in the long term, but she had managed to fall asleep on the couch peacefully that night, dreaming of Maura approaching her with wine and the music playing soft in the background, her kisses infused with the tart taste of strawberries.

"What did you think?" Maura asks, blinking away the last of her tears.

"I think half of the names were made up. I mean, Tchaikovsky? Who was responsible for that name?"

Maura huffs. "Jane."

The teasing has done its trick, though, and Maura is remarkably calmer than she had been. The spaces around her eyes are still wet from tears, and her hands still shake in Jane's. But the fight for air is gone.

"My point is. Maybe we still don't click in all ways… But I can make you laugh."

Maura's hand squeezes Jane's.

"Yes. You can," she admits on a whisper.

She's glad that Maura is looking at the ground when she says it. The smile that bubbles inside of her flows over and she can't bring herself to stop it.

"C'mon. I'll drive you home," Jane murmurs.

And, by some strike of luck, Maura lets her.


Maura's house is a little different from how she remembers, now that she takes the time to look around.

There are things out of place. Disorganised in ways that go against what she believes in. The rug in her front room is a little askew, and crumbs are sprinkled on the kitchen counters, as if she hasn't cleared away. It isn't very… Maura.

"I've been given a few weeks to decide whether I will accept the job offer or not," Maura says, without Jane having to ask. She places her bag on the couch and sits tentatively on the edge of it, as if her own house is not hers to touch. "Howell is considering several offers – one from New York – in the meantime. Plus, Doctor Reyes must clear me to be mentally stable – "

"Of course you are," Jane interjects.

Maura curls her hands around her knees. "To perform my job, Jane. She has to make sure that it won't… ruin my progress."

Jane nods.

"So, uh… How are you doing? You know, progress wise."

Maura purses her lips, knotting her hands together.

"Mental illness is unpredictable. While physical recovery often varies from person to person, there is no pattern to who will or will not recover faster from a mental illness. I am very lucky that I have the money and the ability to access the best medical care that I can, and that I do not have to worry about going back to work right away as I can support myself financially for a long time without income. But. It is about perseverance," Maura frowns. "Pushing myself day after day. And it's unfamiliar. While I have had theoretical discussions about mental illnesses I have never really known anyone who has suffered from one or experienced it first hand until now. It's… very different to treating physical ailments. I cannot simply take medication and hope it'll go away."

"No, you can't," Jane agrees softly. "But I believe in you, Maura. And you have all of us here to support you. You know that, don't you?"

"I do…" Maura presses her hands together, almost like she's praying. "Sergeant Korsak came to wish me well today."

"I know. He was worried about you. We were all so worried about you when you went missing. Me, Frankie, Nina, Korsak – my Ma was beside herself. Your disappearance was never something quiet in our lives."

When Maura looks over at her, Jane notices that her eyes are dewy. Oh, God. Has she made her cry again?

"Jane, can I ask you something?"

"Shoot."

She swallows before she asks, and Jane is transfixed by the hollow at the bottom of her throat, between her collarbones.

"You're a lot fitter than you were before."

"You think so?"

"Definitely."

"Well, uh. I guess I took a lot of my anger out on the punching bag. I trained a lot."

Maura nods, and her hair falls in her eyes. She pushes it away with hands that are startlingly still.

"Did your… increased fitness aid you in catching Melissa?"

"Are you asking if I used excessive force?"

Maura shakes her head. "No – No, I. I mean. Did you have to push yourself… hurt yourself… to catch her?"

Push yourself… hurt yourself…

It is perhaps the first time Maura's expressed concern for Jane since she's returned and it takes her a moment to move past the emotion that swells like tsunamis within her lungs.

"No," she answers honestly. "It was a peaceful arrest. Nobody got hurt. Not me. Not any of the agents. Not Melissa."

Maura releases a long, slow breath. "That's good. I… I'm glad."

She runs her hands along her pants and curls them around her knees. The sleeves of her blouse are pulled up to reveal the scar that runs along her right arm. It is still as bright as the day Jane had first seen it. It makes her knuckles sigh as she fists her hands.

"But, Maura?"

Maura looks up.

"I think I'd do just about anything for you. I'd hurt myself again and again as long as it keeps you safe."

Tears spill over the edges of Maura's eyes then but she doesn't look away from Jane.

"I want to believe that. So desperately," Maura tells her quietly.

"I'll show you," Jane promises, and Maura reaches out to take her hands.


TBC