Notes: Since this story has turned into the playground for vicious trolls in the reviews section hiding behind anonymity, not only here but some with clearly no real life have taken to trolling the reviews of my other stories commenting on this story. As such, I have disabled anonymous reviews. If you want to flame/rant/have a tantrum/throw shit or otherwise act like an immature asshole nut up like a big girl and sign in with an actual account so that you can be responded to. For those of you that have reviewed anon but have done so respectfully or to offer actual constructive criticism or dialogue on the story, my apologies that this may prevent you from doing so if you don't have or want an actual account. When the story is complete I'll consider turning the anonymous review function back on.
CH 14: Green-eyed Monster
Kelly shifted the small pillow in her chair behind her back and winced.
"Hemorrhoids?" Jane asked jokingly as she walked into the bullpen with her coffee.
Kelly chuckled, "Don't make me laugh, it hurts."
"Thought you were at that K-9 thing all week?" Jane sat down at her desk and started rifling through memos.
"Took a dirty hit off a K-9 out of Springfield, nailed me right in the side…bastard. Captain sent me home," Kelly pulled the tea bag out of her cup and let it drip before tossing it in the trash.
"Shit, why didn't you take the rest of the week off?"
"I get bored easily. Besides, it's not that bad. He got a good bite and twist in on me, tore the skin up but I've had worse. I mean it hurts like hell but nothing's broken, I can still walk, get around, do my job. Pain pills help. Bet I'll have some nice scars."
Jane smiled and walked over to Kelly's desk, "Show me yours and I'll show you mine."
"Hittin' on me Rizzoli?" Kelly smirked.
"Nah, you're not my type," Jane sat on the edge of the desk.
Kelly raised an eyebrow, "Yeah…I think we know your type."
Jane laughed, "Yeah, you're dating her." She glanced around at the rather empty bullpen save for Korsak and Frost and lifted her shirt. "Entry wound from the shooting," she pointed to her side and then twisted, "Exit."
"Still can't believe you shot through yourself," Chris shook her head and pulled her blouse out of her pants and lifted it up, peeling back the bandage.
"Oh! Damn," Jane crinkled up her nose as she looked, "Yeah, that's gonna look way gnarlier than this."
Korsak rolled his eyes at his desk, "Ok, ok, you both have big penises. Now who's meeting with the DA about the Camp case at 10?"
"Ew," Jane exclaimed, "Never say that again," she laughed. "Who with?"
Korsak looked at the message, "Brad Morgan."
Jane's eyes got wide and her mouth fell agape, "I, umm, would rather not."
"I can go," Kelly volunteered.
Jane tinkered with the sheet of paper in her hand as she bounced on the balls of her feet in the elevator. It was a slow day, which couldn't help but be boring but, that was ok; the slip of paper was a bright spot that could not be diminished, not by boredom, not by paperwork, not if she got a call out on a triple in ten minutes. She walked through the morgue doors and made a beeline straight for Maura's office.
Jane popped the paper and held it out, "It's a good day Maur, league softball schedule! First game is Sunday, you playing with us?"
Maura's face lit up as she took the schedule, "You want me to play?"
"Yeah," Jane laughed, "I mean, hell, last year you hit the ball after I struck out. But, you can't wear that…" she gestured erratically at her body, "bodysuit…thing you wore the last time…that's….that's a definite no. We'll get you a proper jersey."
"You know that suit is not only aerodynamic it's designed with intrinsic cooling properties to help allay heat exhaustion," Maura interjected.
"I don't care if it's made from the cloned skin cells of Babe Ruth himself, no…you're not wearing that again," Jane laughed.
"Cloned skin cells would be a little too Silence of the Lambs for me," Maura remarked off hand as she clicked on an incoming email.
"Silence of the…" Jane crossed her arms and smirked, "Did you just make a popular culture film reference!"
"Contrary to popular belief my appreciation for film does extend beyond the classical pre-WWII Hollywood era and film noir."
Jane laughed as she walked towards the door, "Dr. Maura Isles, familiar with the talkies!"
"Very funny, Jane!" Maura called out as Jane exited.
"God, it's barely past lunch," Frost whined looking at his watch.
Jane's head snapped up from where she was nearly dozing off propped in her hand.
Kelly entered the bullpen to welcome back nods, she held up a sack, "I picked up some, jelly…flakey…croissant thingies on my way back," she set the bag on the table by the coffee pot.
Korsak wasted no time making his way to the pastries, "How'd the meeting go?" he asked, rooting through the bag.
"Fine," Kelly replied taking a seat at her desk and pulling her deli sandwich out of a separate bag, "The DA's office feels good about it. Jane, Brad said he'd call if they thought you'd be summoned, since you were the lead."
Fuck. "Gah, ok."
Frost pointed with a wicked smile, "Wait a second, that's the Brad you went on the date with! That's why you didn't want to do the meeting. What, date didn't go well? Was he like all, boring lawyer, I motion we make out."
"He was nice," Jane sighed, "Just…didn't go well…anyway enough about yet another of my failed dates in a long and distinguished lineage of failed dates. More about if this blessedly long day ever ends our game strategy session at the Robber this evening. We've got to figure out our line up."
Kelly snorted under her breath, "Lemme guess, the league softball schedule came out today?"
"Yes, thank you God," Jane raised her hands dramatically towards the sky.
Frost cleared his throat, lifted one eyebrow as he caught Jane's eye and nodded his head towards Kelly.
"You, uh, probably play with SWAT, right Kelly?" Jane asked.
"No," she didn't look up as she continued to type away on her computer.
"You're…more than welcome to join us, if you'd like," Jane hoped her voice didn't sound as unenthusiastic as it felt.
"Oh, I mean, no, I don't play softball…like, at all," Kelly looked, "Never did like the game, so, no need for a pity invite," she smiled and went back to her email.
"Don't like softball!" Jane's face was riddled with shock, "Isn't that like the lesbian national pastime or something?" she laughed.
Kelly laughed with her, "Damn near close to it. Nah, you guys have fun and I'll demonstrate my gay sporting prowess when league bowling rolls around."
Maura watched with rapt fascination as the Homicide crew scribbled and scratched across bar napkins. One would think they were diagramming the invasion of Normandy instead of a softball batting order and field placement.
"Where'll we put the Doc?" Frost asked, scanning over the list.
"Oh you can just put me anywhere," Maura smiled taking a sip of her Cosmo.
If the Robber was the setting in a classic cartoon a loud whooshing sound would have boomed through the speakers as the detectives all turned their heads collectively in abject horror.
"Or…not?" Maura back peddled, flashing a conciliatory smile as she took another sip of her drink.
Jane chuckled, "Put her after Frankie and then, we've got in and outfield covered, I'm thinking 3rd base coach when she's not up to bat?"
Maura cocked her head, "You don't trust me in the field?"
"Uh, no, I mean, it's not that we don't trust you in the field," Jane stammered, "third base coach is very important, the person needs to be able to process uh, lots of data on the trajectory of the ball, likely plays the other team might make and be able to formulate a quick decision for the running players."
"God, Martinez was terrible at third last year," Frost shook his head, "how many games did we lose because of his general asshattery at waving runners through?"
"Too damn many," Jane grumbled.
Jane put her hand on Maura's knee under the table, "Seriously Maur, we need somebody smart at third."
Maura smiled and nodded; she lifted her finger to catch the bar tender's attention, "Next round on me."
"You're wearing jeans," Jane's eyes roamed up and down the length of Maura's body, "they're…painted on, more like jeggings really, but jeans nonetheless."
"Jeggings, Jane? Really! Pants are far more conducive to dancing, shall we?" Maura stepped out of the doorway so that Jane could exit her apartment.
"So…" Jane noticed Maura's car was empty as they approached it, "Where's Kelly on this lovely Friday night?"
"She didn't feel like going out, so it's just you and me, if that's ok," Maura smiled as they got into the car.
"Mmhmm," Jane nodded. Yeah, just you…and me…at Merch…awesome. Awkward.
The inside of Merch had been remodeled since the case there last year. No doubt a calculated ploy by the new ownership to distance themselves from the stigma of the murder. The bar oozed a sleek sophistication through rounded edges that led the eye to flow through the space. New lighting cast an almost cerulean tint on the walls and the flooring seemed to undulate in dark blue waves. There was an inviting dance area and a state of the art sound system for when the music picked up later in the evenings.
Jane slid her credit card across the bar into the attentive hands of the bartender, "Sam Adams and a…" she looked at Maura.
"I'll have a gin martini, Bombay Sapphire, and make it dirty," Maura smiled.
The DJ was just getting queued up and that created a few open tables as the other patrons began to work their way towards the dance floor. Jane spotted the furthest free table for two from the music and led the way to it.
She took a swig of her beer, "I'm kind of glad Kelly didn't want to come, no offense. You know, we've been so busy with these last couple of cases we haven't had a lot of time to just hang out, the two of us. Other than Sunday dinner of course, which, I still can't believe you haven't like whacked my Ma over the head with a cast iron skillet yet and found some obscure place to hide her body. You must have the patience of Job."
That Jane was glad Chris hadn't come didn't go unnoticed by Maura, but she decided to leave that sentiment alone for the time being. "The patience of Job. That phrase has always intrigued me, in its more specific theological context it doesn't really refer to patience in the sense that we think of it…the message of Job is that when we say we don't deserve catastrophe, we essentially condemn God, we accuse Him of being unjust. However, in the grander sense I can see the linkages to our contemporary thoughts on patience as resistance in the face of adversity. And besides, I think your mother is wonderful. I know I've said it before but, it probably takes growing up with a family like mine to appreciate a family like yours," Maura shook the plastic toothpick over her drink before delicately removing one of the olives with her teeth.
"Do you like…research all these sayings or something?" Jane laughed.
"Well, sometimes, but I have done a fair amount of reading on Catholicism in general."
It struck her a strange topic for pleasure reading, Jane quirked an eyebrow, "Why?" she asked with an overt tone of skepticism.
"Because you're Catholic," Maura offered, nonchalantly as if the very statement made all the sense in the world.
"What does that have to do with it?" Jane was intrigued.
Maura blushed; she hadn't expected to have to actually explain. She bit down lightly on her lip and took another sip of her martini, "It's helped me to…understand you, I suppose. Mostly when we first met and were becoming friends. You know I've always had difficulty relating to people, so I did research on things that were…I guess you would call them fundamental aspects of your life, things that would naturally orient your world view, impact your belief system."
"But…" Jane swirled her beer around, "I'm a horrible Catholic," she chuckled, "that couldn't have been helpful."
"On the contrary. But, why would you say you're a horrible Catholic?" Maura pulled the second martini-soaked olive from the pick.
"You know, cause I don't like, go to church on Sundays and…stuff," Jane half-shrugged as she said it.
"But you have a lifetime of the Church's principles and philosophy ingrained within you. You don't not believe them just because you don't go to church every Sunday."
Jane nodded, "That's true I suppose."
"Are you familiar with the Coptic Gospels? Principally the Gospel of Thomas?" Maura queried to a definitive "no" headshake from Jane. "Well they're a group of non-canonical Coptic language texts discovered near Nag Hammadi, Egypt in 1945. Many in the Catholic Church have called them heretical. In any event, the Gospel of Thomas often emphasizes religious experience free from third-party intercession, it is written that 'the Kingdom of God is inside you, and it is outside of you. When you come to know yourselves, then you will become known…' the writing seems to suggest that faith and spirituality can be found in many places, in everything, not necessarily in a building we know of as a church, 'Split a piece of wood, and I am there. Lift a stone, and you will find me there.' I don't think not going to Church makes you a bad Catholic, Jane, nor does it devalue your spirituality."
The music settled into a fairly predictable monotony of classic and contemporary remixed pop hits. Most of the patrons seemed unable to resist its trite banality and the dance floor had become quite crowded.
"I want to dance," Maura announced.
Jane's eyes grew wide with the implication, "Uh, ok."
"I can see how that may have been an unclear invitation. Jane, I'm going to dance, would you like to join me?" Maura stood, flashing an expectant smile.
"Oh, no, nooooo," she shook her head in protest, "Haven't had near enough to drink."
Maura shrugged and made her way to the dance floor. Jane watched for a moment and then headed towards the bar. She leaned against it, nursing the last of her current beer, which had grown warm and bitter.
It wasn't long before Jane noticed out of the corner of her eye a particularly rough looking gentleman approaching her. It was only when that person was standing right in front of her that Jane realized it was actually, most likely a woman. A woman with a shaved head, enough tattoos to make a Hell's Angel proud, castoff flannel from the wardrobe of Kurt Cobain with the sleeves cut off, baggy Jeans with chains and combat boots.
She looked Jane over with a hunger and licked her lips, "Did it hurt?"
Jane arched a skeptical eyebrow, "Excuse me?"
"When you fell out of heaven."
Jane snorted into her nearly empty beer.
"Can I buy you another drink," the woman asked.
Jane looked at the bottle, "Uh, no, I think I'm done for the night. But, thanks…" Oh my God, she mouthed as the woman walked away.
"Jesus Christ," a voice started from off to Jane's left, "You'd think as women, lesbians would have better pickup lines."
"Was that a woman?" Jane laughed as she turned to find a very pretty blonde standing next to her.
"You really done drinking or was that your butch repellant answer?" the blonde asked.
"Definitely the latter," Jane replied setting her empty bottle down on the bar.
"I'd offer to buy you a drink, but I wouldn't want to get you in trouble with your girlfriend over there," the blonde nodded her head towards Maura who was still on the dance floor.
"Oh, she's not my girlfriend."
"Well in that case," the blonde turned to the bartender and ordered two beers handing Jane one, "I'm Rhiannon."
"I'm Jane. Rhiannon? That's an unusual name." Jane took a swig of her beer.
"Perhaps. Unless your parents were pot smoking hippies who followed Fleetwood Mac all over the country in the 70s," Rhiannon laughed.
From across the club, Maura paused, watching Jane and the blonde woman as they chatted and laughed. The blonde's hand landed lightly on Jane's forearm and her thumb swiped back and forth. Maura started walking towards them but the pair began moving in her direction.
"Hey," Jane said, nearly bumping into Maura, "Maura, this is Rhiannon. Rhiannon, Maura. We're gonna…uh, dance, Maur."
Maura ordered another martini and stood at the bar sipping it, watching Jane and Rhiannon dance. One song, two songs, three songs…eventually she stopped counting, placing her empty glass on the bar. Jane wasn't prone to excessive movement but Maura wondered why she had been so self-conscious to dance; she had a natural rhythm and her body moved effortlessly to the beats. The pair moved closer together, Rhiannon's hands making their way to Jane's hips. Maura arched an eyebrow and looked down at the floor before her eyes were naturally drawn back up. A strange sensation settled in the pit of her stomach, an unsettling flurry. Envy? She pondered. Envy of the woman whose hands were on Jane's hips; who was close enough to feel her breath ghost over her skin like Maura had that night at the Robber when Jane stood behind her to teach her how to play pool. It wasn't just envy. Jealousy.
Rhiannon's hands wrapped further around Jane's body as she leaned in and whispered in her ear. It occurred to Maura she was fidgeting with the ring on her finger, she shook out her hands and shoved them in the pockets of her jeans as Jane and Rhiannon stepped off the dance floor. Jane handed Rhiannon her cell phone and then slipped it back in her pocket after numbers had been exchanged.
"Ready to head out, Maur?" Jane asked, smiling. She turned to Rhiannon before they left, "I'll give you a call."