CH 20: Demons
Sleep wasn't an option. Anything could happen. Maura could wake up…or slip away. The second thought was almost unfathomable, a mother's worst nightmare. So, Constance had stayed awake all night again, sitting on the edge of Maura's bed while she held her hand and kept her eyes trained on the monitors. She'd caught herself dozing once or twice. The longest she had drifted away was an hour and the guilt streaked through her when she noticed the elapsed time.
Maura's vitals hadn't changed. The emotions were almost overwhelmingly conflicting; she was grateful they hadn't worsened but was growing angrier and more terrified that they weren't improving. And through it all, she'd never felt more alone. The university hadn't yet been able to reach her husband who was with a group of students abroad in Russia and Central Asia for the semester. The Fulbright contact said he likely didn't have internet or phone access on site. They would have to reach out to the project liaison with Baku State University to locate him. If her husband was there they could at least take turns sleeping and keeping vigil. There would at least be someone else there to be the strong one. Then, she could really cry.
Constance leaned over Maura and kissed her forehead, "You have to wake up. You have to get better. I haven't been the best mother; I know that. I took having you in my life for granted. I promise, I promise that will change. We're going to spend more time together. We can…go to art shows and to the theater. I have a show late in the spring at the Musée National Des Beaux-Arts Du Québec; you should take vacation and come for the week. You don't get to use your French much here in Boston."
The monotonous blips of the machines droned on. The neurologist and nursing team came in to check on Maura for the morning. Constance shook her head and refused to process the timetable they laid out before the decision for the surgery would have to be made. "She's going to get better," she repeated to them. "She's very strong. She's going to get better."
And then they were gone and she was alone with Maura again. Constance smiled, remembering the first time she had been alone with her new daughter. "I never told you this story," she began, stroking Maura's cheek with her thumb. "The fall semester hadn't commenced so your father was home for the first couple of weeks. But, then he had to go back to campus to prep his courses. I'm not sure I had ever been so scared in my life as the morning he walked out the door and left me alone with you for the first time. I was panic-stricken that I would do something wrong. You were like this delicate porcelain doll and I was convinced I would break you."
A much needed chuckle swept through Constance as she reminisced on the early days of parenting. "Oh, my darling," she brought Maura's hand to her lips kissed it, "I guess all new mothers have that fear. Someday, you'll get married, and you and your husband will have a child and you'll have the same fears. You're going to be a much better mother than I was. I'll make it up to you; I promise. You have to wake up."
Jane groaned as she awoke. Her head throbbed and everything still seemed hazy. Restless dreams plagued her subconscious: the screeching sound of twisting metal, frantic shouts, the smell of burning, and the taste of blood. She had awakened several times throughout the night, each time hoping that her eyes would flutter open to the sight of her bedroom or Maura's, that Maura would be curled into her side, mussed hair tickling at her neck like it often did when they wound up tangled in each other by morning. But, that wasn't what she awoke to. The waiting room was awash in neutrals, white, beige, and tan that glowed a muted gold in the low lamplight when the fluorescent overheads were turned off for the night.
As she turned onto her side, her head rolling across her sleeping mother's leg that was serving as a pillow, Jane could feel the stiffness that had taken over her body and settled deep into her joints. She struggled to sit up, reaching for her neck to rub feebly at it. The discomfort was too pervasive; the pain was everywhere. Body. Mind. Heart.
"Sore?" Korsak whispered from the opposite sofa. Jane nodded. "It'll get better soon. You need to move around, work it out. You're very lucky, Jane. It could have been much worse."
Jane's head hung as she processed the words. Lucky. "This doesn't feel lucky. I wish it were me."
Korsak stood and helped her to her feet, "But, it's not, and all we can do is wait. Come on, let's go get some coffee while your Mom and Frankie are still asleep."
They walked slowly and silently to the elevator, the heavy, quiet solemnity filling the metal box on the ride down the floors until they reached the cafeteria. Jane drowned herself in cup after cup of bitter, black, hospital coffee. If she couldn't sleep worth a damn, she figured she might as well be wide awake. The breakfast Korsak had bought her she left untouched.
He'd seen Jane Rizzoli through a lot of painful ordeals, physical and emotional: the legal issues with Tommy, her parents' separation, and perhaps the worst of them all – the brushes with Hoyt. Through all of those trials there had been tears, yelling fits of anger, lashing out, withdrawal, but never this…never such a disorienting silence.
Korsak pulled the half-drunk third cup from her hands and set it aside. His hands almost completely engulfed her own. "Jane, when she wakes up...when…she will ask for you. Of everyone in this world that I know, you're probably the strongest, the most bullheaded, the most determined. But, over these years that I've gotten to know Dr. Isles, I think she runs a pretty close second. Look at everything you two have been through together. She's never faltered. She's made it through, just like you have. Maura will wake up, Jane. And whether or not you have to sit it out in the waiting room or by her side, she needs you to believe that she will wake up."
Ian strode quickly down the hallway of the hospital, wrapping Constance in a supportive embrace as she met him at the doors to the ICU. It didn't matter that Maura didn't want to be with him anymore, he still loved her. The fault was his that she had moved on; he knew that. He'd never put her first. He felt Constance cry into his shoulder and held her tighter.
When they were in Africa together, he and Maura had talked about the potentialities of harm coming their way. It was almost a relief when she packed up and went back to Boston. The work they had been doing was gratifying, but it could also be dangerous. Civil wars and domestic rebellions in states with very little infrastructure to begin with rarely afforded sanctuary to those who were there to help. You worked in a war zone, even a post-war zone at your own risk. Doctors and nurses had died and been injured simply trying to offer care to the sick and wounded. They practiced with neutrality, but the doctor that saves the life of a rebel and allows him to fight another day becomes an enemy of the government and the doctor that saves the life of a government soldier becomes an enemy of the rebel.
In the Southern Sudan he was sure it would be Maura that would get the call of his demise. Peace agreements were sometimes about as useful in a conflict zone as the flimsy scrap of paper they were inked on. Even when the main forces respected the terms it could be nearly impossible to reign in all the fringe extremists. The forces from Khartoum and the legitimized forces of the autonomous South had no desire to try and neither the UN nor the African Union had the capacity. The Abyei District was a particularly heated zone, a lingering bone of contention between the governments of the north and south because of the oil resources. That was of course why they had gone there: to offer medical service to people who had become pawns in a game of territorial greed. The raid was on a Tuesday. He never knew which side the extremists were affiliated with. Only that when he woke up he had a concussion and a six inch laceration across his scalp. No one had died, miraculously, but the makeshift clinic was ransacked and all the supplies stolen.
Ian had seen far worse than what a car accident could do. Yet, he was still a human being. Growing used to the ravages of war did little to still the acceleration of his heartbeat when he saw her bandaged and unconscious. He stood at the foot of Maura's bed, ever the doctor, and read the chart before proceeding to her side.
"You should agree to the surgery," he took Maura's hand in his own and looked at Constance, "If there's no change by tomorrow."
Constance began to tear up, "They want to remove part of her skull." The words were barely a whisper, the radical nature of the surgery almost more than she could bear.
"Only temporarily," Ian assured her. "Her hair will grow back. She can cover the scars. It may be the only option." Suddenly, it struck him. He glanced around the room, "Where's Jane?"
The stiffening of Constance's posture was hard to miss. She closed her eyes and squared her shoulders, "In the waiting room most likely. She refuses to leave. I haven't allowed her back here."
His brow furrowed, "Why? Constance, Maura would want her here."
"But, I don't want her here," Constance fired back. "I…I can't deal with that right now. She only even told me a day before the accident. It's unacceptable. What will people think!"
"What does it matter?" Ian interjected. "They're in love with one another."
"She's in love with you. She always has been. She just didn't think you would ever come back. But, you have now. And when she wakes up and you're here she'll understand. She'll forget all about this silliness. It's loneliness, that's all it is." Constance walked up beside him and fidgeted with the blankets covering Maura, adjusting them and tucking them in tight around her.
"She'll never forgive you, Constance," Ian grabbed her wrist and took her hand. "I've seen them together. I wish she had just once looked at me the way she looked at Jane the night I went to propose to her. If she wakes up and you've forbidden Jane to be with her…I honestly don't think she'll ever forgive you."
Constance shook her head and wrenched her hand away, "She's my daughter. I may not have been the best mother, but I still know her."
His hand was light on her shoulder, "You've had an unimaginable thirty-six hours. Have you even eaten?"
"The nurses have brought me a few bites to eat."
"Constance," Ian turned her around and began to forcibly walk her towards the door. "Take a break. Go get some something to eat. Clear your mind. I'll be here; I'll stay with her. I'll call you immediately if anything change."
Constance lingered reluctantly at the door to the room, looking back over her shoulder towards Maura. "I don't want to leave her," she looked up into his eyes with a desperate sadness.
Ian opened the door, "As a doctor, trust me, nothing dramatic is likely to happen in one hour." With Constance gone he turned and looked at the woman he thought he would one day call his wife. He sighed, rubbing his eyes with his hands. She's in love with you. She always has been. And when she wakes up and you're here she'll understand. Ian wished that Constance knew Maura as well as she thought she did.
In his mind, there was really only one thing to do. Ian jogged down to the waiting room. Puffy, exhausted, and shocked eyes caught his as he walked in. "Jane…" he walked towards her, grabbing her under the arm and pulling her to her feet. "Jesus," he looked at the bruising that had traveled down her face from the laceration on her head. "You were in the accident too?"
Jane nodded, her nose scrunching as she tried to hold back the tears.
"Come on," he walked her towards the door, "We don't have much time."
"Can she hear me?" Jane sat on the bed on Maura's left side and pressed her lips to Maura's cheek.
"Many medical professionals believe so. Patients have reported remembering things loved ones have said when they came out of a coma." Ian watched as Jane gingerly stretched out along Maura's side. "I'll be in the hallway. I don't think you'll have more than an hour before Constance comes back."
When the door clicked shut behind him, Jane pulled Maura's hand to her chest, squeezing it as she pressed the back of her palm to her heart. "I'm here, Maura," she whispered, her lips brushing the shell of her love's ear as she spoke. "I love you. I may not be able to be here with you every minute. But, I'm here. Feel it. Feel me, here with you. You're strong, Maura. You're going to come out of this."
Jane closed her eyes and listened to the familiar whoosh of the respirator and the punctuating blips of the monitors. She kissed Maura's hand, running her fingers along the underside of Maura's forearm and up the side towards her wrist. One of the fingers in her grasp flinched.
"Maura…" Jane propped herself up and ran her other hand along the bandages on Maura's head before threading her fingers through the mess that was her hair. She winced as she felt the gritty remnants of blood from the crash. "Maura, can you hear me? I think you can. I'm just going to talk to you. It may just be rambling, but I'm going to talk anyway. Ummm…Tommy's staying at the house with Bass and Joe. I thought Bass would be more comfortable where he's familiar and you know Joe is happy wherever. And Tommy's really good with animals. I'm still looking forward to the opera. You're going to be fine by then. I think maybe I should get a new dress. The black one looks good, but I don't know, maybe something with some color? I'll let you pick it out and I won't complain…unless it's pink. Just…not pink. Marcie called. We won the playoff game this morning. She said everyone prayed for you before the game. We play again next weekend. You're going to be awake by then, maybe you'll even be discharged and we can go. I'll carry you out on the ice if I have to for the national anthem and then we'll sit on the bench and cheer for the team."
Angela watched a haggard Constance Isles make her way through the cafeteria line and take a seat at a table across the large eating area. She knew what the other woman was going through, on so many different levels. No one knew better than she did. It wasn't in her nature to sit back and watch everyone around her hurt. They had developed a friendship, however small, when their daughters were just friends. Even if Constance didn't see her that way now, she would still have to see her as a fellow mother…and one at that who had sat in a hospital room wondering if her child would die.
"May I join you?" Angela asked as she approached the table. Constance nodded and she took a seat. "How is she?"
Constance stared down at the plate of food and pushed the noodles around in her soup, "The same."
"How are you?" Her hand settled on Constance's wrist.
"I've been better," she set the spoon down and pushed the plate away. Her eyes were almost tortured as she regarded Angela, "How did you deal with it? When Jane was shot? How did you keep from just screaming and crying until they carted you off to the psychiatric ward?"
Angela smiled, "Oh, believe me, I did plenty of crying. I said words that would have had my mother rolling in her grave. I think I even cursed God. But, at the end of the day I found my comfort in family and in all the friends that were there because they loved Jane. All those days waiting for her to wake up…I couldn't have done it without them. Especially Maura. She's become like a daughter to me. Even before she and Jane took this step."
Constance pulled her hand away, "She's my daughter."
"No one's trying to replace you. But, she is in love with Jane and Jane is in love with her."
"I don't accept that," Constance shook her head, "She's been lonely, maybe confused." She paused, trying to determine what the look in Angela's eyes was. When she first sat down she thought perhaps it was pity or sympathy, now it looked more like disbelief or disdain. "Angela, I wouldn't have figured you for the type that would support this kind of relationship."
Angela stood, "I didn't at first. And I lost sight of something very important as a result of my own ignorance. I love my daughter…both of my daughters. And I support them and their happiness." She turned to leave but stopped, turning on her heel to face Constance once again. "Constance, I wouldn't have figured you for cruel."
Ian checked his watch nervously before stepping back inside the room, "Jane, I don't think you have much more time. You should probably go back to the waiting room."
"No." Jane answered resolutely as she peppered Maura's temple and cheek with soft kisses. "I'm not leaving."
He walked to the bedside, "She'll have you thrown…" Ian paused, looking at the monitor. "Oh my God."
Jane looked up, "What?"
With a laugh laden with relief he pointed to the monitor, "Her intracranial pressure has dropped two points over the last hour."
Squeezing Maura's hand even tighter she watched as her own tears dripped to Maura's cheek, "That's my girl," Jane whispered kissing the fallen tears away.
They both turned as the door opened and Constance barreled in. She stopped, her mouth falling open in shock, "What is she doing here!" Her eyes simmered with anger as she stared at Ian. "I expressly told you I did not want her here!"
"It's not about you, Constance. It's about Maura and what she would want," Ian pointed at the monitor, "Her pressure has dropped two points since Jane has been here."
The numbers didn't lie. Constance brought her hand to her mouth as tears began to well up behind her eyes. She looked at her daughter and Jane lying beside her and yet still the sharp pain of disapproval bubbled inside of her. A day and a half she had sat by her daughter's side with no change and in the one hour she was gone she had improved. Perhaps that hurt most of all.
"Constance," Jane spoke up, "Please let me stay. I'll sit across the room. I won't bother you. I just want to be here. I promised her, when were at dinner before the accident, I promised her I'd never leave her. I know you hate me right now. I'm not asking you to accept me, or our relationship; but I am asking you to try and see that I do love her and that I would consider it a debt I owe to you if you would just let me be where I can see her." Jane brought her hands to her face and wiped at the tears that were streaming down her cheeks. They were a mix of heartfelt sadness and profound anger that she had to beg to be by Maura's side. Even if she hadn't come around, Jane couldn't imagine that her mother would have forbidden Maura from her bedside under similar circumstances.
"No," Constance replied. "I don't want to see you with her."
"Constance…" Ian reached for her arm but the distraught woman pulled away.
"She's my daughter!" Constance began to sob. "And…and I've been a terrible mother. She's had to find comfort and support everywhere but from me. Not this time. I'm here now. I'm going to be here. I'm going to make it right. Everything I've damaged…I can put it back together. But, I have to be here."
Jane closed her eyes as more tears squeaked through her defenses. Defenses. It was almost laughable. The past months with Maura had stripped her bare and put her back together. Constance had it wrong; Maura wasn't the damaged one and she didn't need her mother or anyone else to stitch back together the pieces. When Maura woke up, Jane knew that she would be the one to fix the mess. Constance was the broken one. With time, Maura would be able to patch the cracks.
She slid her hand under Maura's as she leaned down to place one last kiss on her temple. "Love you," Jane whispered. "I have to go now. Just, remember what I said, my heart is here with you, even if my body's not. Keep getting better. Wake up, Maura, when you're ready, wake up and we'll fix all of this together."
Jane slid off the bed and gave Maura's hand one last squeeze. Jane, Constance, and Ian all watched as slowly Maura's fingers curled and tightened around Jane's hand. With a smile and breathy chuckle of relief Jane let her head lower to rest against Maura's for just a moment. "Thank you."
Disentangling her hand from Maura's weak grasp Jane stepped into the hallway with Ian right behind. Of all the advocates, Ian wasn't who she would have expected. Jane covered his hand on her shoulder with her own. "She knew I was there. She could hear me…or something…it connected."
"Get some rest," Ian encouraged, "I'll keep you updated."
Jane thought back to Maura's first suggestion of playing hockey. She recalled when Frankie had helped her realize how she took her friendship for granted, how she lashed out and treated other people.
"Everyone has their own demons. I think I probably know that more than anyone. It's always easier to punish someone else for our own sense of failure. Maura made me realize that. She's made me a better daughter, sister, friend, colleague…a better person." Jane looked up at Ian, "Tell Constance that I forgive her."