XXI
Here we are again, Jane.
"Katherine."
It's the first word she is conscious of saying, but her mouth feels dry and her throat is on fire, like she's been screaming. Was she screaming? She moves her tongue over her lips and listens for her wife.
"Katie," She tries to open her eyes, but her head is pounding, and her eyelids simply won't respond. She strains her ears for a sound, any sound, and after a moment, she thinks that she can hear voices coming from somewhere nearby. Tries to raise her arms, but they are too heavy. Has Hoyt bound them? It is not in his MO to bind the living, and he must have felt her heart beating, even if she was unconscious. The voices talking are male, but they are too deep for Charles, too gentle. Could help have come? She tries to turn her head towards the voices and groans as nausea washes over her.
With the nausea comes an image, or a memory, though she prays that it is not. The image of her hands, red and raw from shards of glass, stretching out for a tearstained toddler. Her own voice, hoarse and shaky. Don't be afraid. Don't be afraid, My. Everything's okay.
And Maya's voice in her head, high and panicked. Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!
"No," She says, forcing her eyes open against the harsh white of her hospital room. "No! Maya! Katie!"
At once, there is someone by her bed, a hand reaching out to touch her shoulder. "Calm down, Janie," a low, gentle, familiar voice. Jane shuts her eyes because the lights are too bright. Or because the pain is too great. Or both. She knows that Katherine is gone.
"It's alright," It's Frost's voice, she realizes when he speaks again, and for a moment she doesn't understand why he's there. She can't fathom why he would come all the way to Chicago from Boston. "You're safe," he says, "can you hear me, Jane?"
She's safe. How cruel and incomplete a statement. She focuses all her energy on opening her eyes again, and there he is, flanked by doctors and looking more exhausted than she has ever seen him before. He watches her struggle to open her eyes and once she has focused on him, he tries to give her a smile. He only succeeds in grimacing.
"Frost," she croaks. "The hell are you doing here?"
He takes a breath, like he knows what he has to say will reveal more than he wants to. "I'm your emergency contact, Jane," he says after a moment.
No. That's not right. Katherine is her emergency contact. And Jane is Katherine's. They take care of each other. Only if one of them can't get to the other. Only if neither of them can get to the kids, does Frost become…
It hits her hard enough that she makes a noise, like the sound she would make if she was slammed hard onto her back. It's the sound of all the air leaving her.
"Jay," he begins, but she manages to shake her head and he falls silent. She lets the implications of his presence sit with her for a long moment. And then she swallows, even though it's more out of habit than anything else. Her throat is as dry as bone.
"Kate," she says and she can feel the man next to her tighten. "Tell me," she says.
"She's gone, Jane."
Gone. Dead. Murdered.
Jane forces herself to nod, once, and to hold the cavernous maw of her grief at bay. She must know.
"Hoyt."
"Prison. Maximum security. You got him."
Maybe, she thinks. But too late. She can feel her consciousness slipping, and she holds on tightly. One more. Just one more question.
"Girls," she manages, throat constricted with fear and pain.
"They're fine," he says quickly, relieved that he can give her this news. "They're both completely unhurt, Jane. They were staying with some neighbors, and they're with me right now…but I'm going to call you mother, Jane, and Frankie and Tommy, and I know that-"
"No." She puts as much authority into her voice as possible. "No Ma."
Frost pauses, and even without seeing him she can tell he is frowning. "Jay," he says quietly, and his voice has dropped lower. "A lot has happened since."
But she shakes her head, feeling herself slide a little further towards a black out. "No. Ma. Barry."
She only calls him that when she is angry or pulling rank, and she is both of them now. She hears him sigh in resignation. "Alright," he says finally. "Alright…but if you kick it, I'm calling them."
She would laugh if her ribs weren't agony. If she wasn't on the verge of throwing up and passing out. If she didn't already miss Kate like she'd lost a physical part of her body.
But Frost doesn't seem to expect her to laugh. He leans right down next to her, and she can hear his voice, even as she's dragged back down into obliviousness.
"Don't you dare kick it, Jane. Don't you fucking dare."
…
"What else did he say?" The FBI agent's name is Dean, and Maura thinks he looks pale and weak, not a good match for one of the most notorious serial killers of all time. She looks at Jane, who is watching her children play in the back yard with their uncles. She doesn't even turn her head to look at him.
Maura tries to recall what Jane said that morning. "He said…he said that she misjudged him. He said…if he were a religious man, he would quote proverbs 16:18. But he said he wasn't, religious, he said-"
"There are many deities, Jane Rizzoli, and it's time you learned which one of us is classified as one." Jane speaks without turning around, and her voice is as frosted as the glass in the sliding door."How in the hell did this happen?"
Agent Dean studies Jane's back long enough to make Maura uncomfortable, then he clears his throat, clearly waiting for her to turn around. She doesn't, just continues to stare through the window, even though Maura knows she can feel Agent Dean's eyes on her back.
"Well," he says after another pause, when it is clear that Jane isn't going to take her eyes off her children, "like I said, the scene at the transfer was chaos. Two civilians wounded, one dead, Catronio injured and not captured," he sighs heavily, like the weight of the world is on his shoulders, and not Jane's. Maura hates him in that moment, for his selfishness. "Catronio shot," he says again, "And not brought in."
Maura can't suppress a shiver at the apprentice's name. And she can't stop herself from remembering Hoyt's words when Jane had visited him.
"I am certain that my colleague will be dying to tell me exactly what the doctor tastes like."
"I don't understand how this happened," she says, and Agent Dean turns to look at her. "How did Catronio know when the transfer was going to be? How did he get close enough to discharge his weapon without getting fatally wounded?"
"Who the fuck let Hoyt go in order to shoot at that tool bag?" Jane interjects, and Maura sighs, a little flustered.
"Well, yes," she says, moving towards Jane, "I wouldn't have used that language, but my sentiment is the same." When she gets close enough, Jane turns from the window and draws Maura into her arms, wrapping her arms tightly around her, pressing her lips to Maura's temple in a gesture that is not quite a kiss, more like reassurance.
Agent Dean looks momentarily surprised, and then a little disappointed, and when he speaks again, he sounds flustered. A new wave of anger washes over Maura.
"Detective Rizzoli," He says gravely, "I assure you that the FBI has nothing but your safety in mind. And we are going to make finding Charles Hoyt one of our top priorities."
Jane snorts, stepping away from the window, and although she lets Maura go, her left hand stays on the doctor's arm, holding her back as the brunette steps forward. It's something she's doing more and more: this contact and protection. Each time it happens the doctor feels light headed with panic and affection. Now she puts her hand over Jane's on her arm, and the detective looks back at her briefly, before turning again to Agent Dean and glaring.
"My safety," she says quietly. "Nothing but my safety in mind." Agent Dean doesn't know her, and so he misreads her tone as gratitude.
"Yes," He says. "Of course we do," he tries to smile at the detective, but the expression makes him look timid, something Maura knows Jane won't want to see. "I, personally want you to trust me when I say that we are going to protect-"
But Jane has had enough, and Maura having heard the dangerous undertone in the brunette's voice flinches as the first words of Jane's outburst come from her mouth.
"My safety? MY SAFETY?" Maura reaches out to put her hand on Jane's shoulder, but the taller woman shrugs out of her reach, pointing a finger at Dean. "WHAT ABOUT THE SAFETY OF MY FAMILY?" She yells, and her voice is loud enough that outside, Zoe and Maya stop chasing Tommy through the snow and turn towards the house.
"Jane,"
"WHAT ABOUT THE SAFETY OF THE WOMAN I LOVE? WHAT ABOUT HER PROTECTION? HAVE YOU THOUGHT ABOUT THAT, AGENT?"
Dean has gone white faced, and when Jane advances on him, he staggers backwards, afraid.
"Jane," Maura has seen the detective's face. She understands that this is about more than Agent Dean's clear lack of tact. "Honey-"
"I'm sorry," she says, throwing a look at Maura that is still a little glassy, "You come waltzing in my door two full days after a serial killer who's supposed to be in lock up calls me on the phone, and you say 'trust me to protect you' and then you flinch away from me like I'm a monster?" She looks at him, eyes wide. He opens his mouth to answer, but she doesn't give him a chance.
"Charles Hoyt stalks and kills couples, and recently, he left two little boys orphaned. He…" She trails off.
Ah. Maura understands. Stepping forward, she takes Jane firmly around the upper arm.
"Jane," she says, raising her voice slightly. "Jane, look at me, honey."
Jane's deep brown eyes slide around to meet hers. "Maur," her voice drops an octave. She sounds lucid, at least. Maura pulls her back towards the sliding door that leads out to the back yard.
"Look, honey. Look outside."
Jane turns and looks out the door, towards where her children stand, decked out in all their winter garb. Marua squeezes Jane's arm, and waves at them with her free hand, smiling broadly.
Zoe cracks first. She waves her fuzzy pink mitten back at them. "Hi Mama! Hi Mam. I chasin Tommy!"
Maya looks at her sister and then back at Maura. She waves too, but she doesn't smile as widely, and when she looks at Jane, she stops smiling completely.
"They're right there," Maura says quietly. "See? They're right there." She pulls at Jane's arm, wrapping it back around her waist. "I'm right here," she says, and after a moment, she feels Jane respond, tightening her grip. "We're here. We're all okay."
Jane closes her eyes for a moment, and Maura feels her take a deep breath.
"Okay," she says, turning to Dean. "Okay. Tell me your plan, Agent Dean."
"We've got unmarked cars on the house, on the precinct, we've dispatched them out to New York as well. Hoyt struck your home a year ago, nine days from now. Our plan is to catch him before he can strike again."
Jane rolls her eyes, but doesn't comment, and Dean goes on. "You're his end game, Detective. He likes rules and timelines, so we know when he's coming. We know he's going to come. All that's left to do is play the waiting game."
Jane rolls her shoulders, but then, she nods.
Agent Dean looks supremely relieved. "Okay," he says, and he reaches into his back pocket. He pulls out one of his cards, and scribbles something on it. He hands it to Jane, trying to meet her eyes.
"That's my office and work cell on the front," he pauses, and his eyes flick to Maura for a moment. "And my personal cell on the back," he finishes. "Don't hesitate to call."
Jane makes a gesture like she's batting away a fly, and turns back to the door without saying goodbye.
"I'm going to walk to agent out, Jane," Maura says quietly, "okay?"
Jane glances at her. "Then come back and stand with me," she says, nodding.
Maura can't help but smile.
"Of course," she responds. Nothing could keep her away.
…
She sits on the windowsill and looks out over the field that borders the hospital. Her knees are pulled up towards her chest and her chin rests in the dip between them. Her hands are buried in her hair.
"Jane," her therapist's voice reaches her like it's had to struggle through a dense fog. "Can you hear me?"
She turns her head and looks at the doctor, sitting in the armchair across from her. "Sorry," she says, "did you ask me something?"
The woman is older, with a kind face and a keen stare, and for a moment she just smiles at Jane. It makes her uncomfortable.
"Yes," she says finally, "I asked you several things actually, shall I go back to my original question?"
Jane pulls her hands from her hair and stretches her back. She wants to tell the woman that she shouldn't bother asking any of these questions at all, but she knows that would be counterproductive. The woman would make a note on her chart: unresponsive, and it would be another four weeks of therapy before anyone would even talk to her about leaving and getting her kids back.
Her kids. Jane feels her hands clench into fists involuntarily. They are the only thing she has left, the only thing she has to live for, and she barely sees them. Two hours, three times a week, in the rec room of the hospital which is always full of people and doctors. Two hours, three times a week, and it's always supervised. Like she would do anything to her children. Like she's the bad guy in all of this.
"Jane," The doctor's voice sounds urgent now. "Where are you right now?"
Jane glares at her. "It's bullshit that I don't get to see my kids," anger makes her voice rough.
"You do see your kids, Jane. Often."
"Never alone! Never in a place where I can sit down with them and hold them and tell them I love them and that I'm coming back to them. Explain what happened." She tries to keep her voice from shaking, but it won't and so she just stops talking.
"You believe that you're emotionally capable of taking care of them now? It's only been two months Jane. And you've only been on your feet for three weeks."
"They're my children."
"Correct," the doctor says, "but you refuse to help yourself in order to get back to them. What am I supposed to think about your emotional state when that's the case?" Her voice is calm and reasonable and it makes Jane want to scream.
"That's what this is about? Me not wanting to go back to Boston? You've never met my parents, doctor. You can call it a support system all you want, but to me it will always be homophobia. And what am I supposed to do down there? Get a job at DQ?" Jane runs a hand through her hair. This is the most she's said since her first and second sessions, when she just spent the entire hour crying over Katherine. She grits her teeth. "I don't see how my emotional stability would be improved by returning to a place I hate."
The doctor regards her solemnly for a moment, pen tapping on the pad in her lap, and Jane thinks she might have the other woman stumped, but then the doctor points at Jane's hands.
"Look at what you're doing, Jane" she says quietly.
The detective looks down at her hands. Free of her hair, she realizes that she has been beating them repeatedly on the windowsill. One and then the other, each blow hard and, Jane realizes dimly, painful against the concrete sill.
She stills her hands quickly, even though it's too late to stop the damage. Two of her knuckles are split and bruises are already forming.
Jane stares down at the damage she didn't know she was making, proof that her pain has been finding a secret way out of her. She'd understood from the beginning that her grief was different, maybe a little dangerous. Now here is irrefutable proof.
Grief has turned her a little wild, has numbed her to the sensation of her knuckles on concrete. Has numbed her to feeling anything at all.
"When you get your children back," the doctor says after a moment, her sharp eyes watching Jane examine her hands. "When they come back to you. I want you to receive them completely. I want the three of you to be strong and healthy and complete."
Complete. Jane can barely form the entire word without Katherine. But those are Katherine's kids out there. Katherine's kids and Jane's. Without either of them.
"What do I do?" she asks, coming to sit closer to the doctor. "What do I do?"
The doctor smiles, and it is not condescending at all. "Let's start simple," she says gently. "Tell me about Maya."
…
New York is calling daily.
Are you alright over there?
We're alright over here.
Are you sure?
We're sure.
The doctor's need to keep all three Rizzolis in sight is reaching an obsessive level. Agent Dean had seemed sure about Hoyt's timeline but Jane seems jumpy all the time, like she doesn't believe it could be as simple a capture as Dean predicts.
"Do you think he'll come here?" she asks Jane in bed one night. "How could he come here? How could he know where here is?"
Jane pulls her closer, kissing her neck and her ear, shaking her head slowly. "I don't know anything, Maura," she replies. "That's why I'm so scared. Because I don't know."
Maura rolls over, pressing her front into Jane's. She closes her eyes.
"Keep breathing," she whispers to the brunette.
Jane squeezes her in return.
.
Something wakes her. Like that night all those months ago, when she awoke to find Jane crying in her kitchen, something pulls her out of bed tonight, even though Jane is sleeping deeply beside her.
Out in the hall, she stands, irresolute, trying to figure out when she became the type of person who acted on her feelings. She is on the verge of turning and heading back to bed, when she hears it.
It's the sound of someone crying, mewling really, coming from the bathroom, and Maura pushes the door open to reveal Maya.
Maura catches her breath. "Maya, honey, what are you doing up?"
Maya looks up at her, still teary and a little guilty. "I couldn't sleep," she says rubbing her eyes.
Maura steps into the bathroom, squatting down in front of the little girl, automatically checking her for any injuries. "What's wrong, honey. Why are you crying in here?"
Usually when Maya has a nightmare, or is worried about something, she goes directly to Jane, and more often than not, Maura wakes up to the feel of two freezing cold feet on her legs as Maya slides in beside her mother.
Maya hesitates, looking nervous.
"You can tell me anything," Maura says, wondering if this is a line that actually works on children. "Even…even if it's something you don't want to tell Mama, okay? You can tell me."
Maya looks down at her hands, and so the doctor does too, and she realizes with a little gasp, that they are trembling.
"Maya!" she says, reaching out and pulling the girl against her, feeling her panic rise even further when the child starts to cry harder. "Sweetheart! Tell me what's wrong!"
"I…am…scared…to…die," Maya sobs into her shoulder. "I don't want to die, Mam, I don't."
Maura is instantly in tears. She can't help herself, that voice.
"Baby," she says, through her own tears. "You're not going to die! Why do you think that?"
"Mommy did," she says tearfully, "the last time Mama got nervous, Mommy went to heaven." She buries herself in Maura's shoulder again, and the doctor has to gently pull her away so that she can get the rest of her explanation. "I'm part of Mommy. I'm from Mommy. I don't want to die like Mommy."
It makes perfect, six year old sense. And because of that, Maura finds it hard to explain why it is not so. She pulls Maya close to her again, stroking her hair.
"No," she says, bending to kiss the little head, her brain trying desperately to come up with the right words. "Just because you are like your Mommy doesn't mean you're going to die like her. I know it's so scary…" She stops, wondering what to say next, panicking when she comes up empty. Maya pulls back and looks up into the doctor's face, her little cheeks tearstained.
Maura opens her mouth, trying to think of something comforting. What would she want to hear…if she were this scared.
"You don't have to go through this alone, darling," she says quietly, and she reaches up and brushes a strand of Maya's hair away from her face. "Why are you hiding in here all by yourself?"
Maya's lip trembles, but she manages to stop it after a moment. "I have to be strong for Mama," she says determinedly. "So she stays okay."
Is it possible to love someone so hard that it draws blood? Maura is quite sure the answer is yes. She strokes Maya's hair again. "No, baby," she says gently. "That's not how families work, right? You know that."
Maya rubs her nose with the back of her hand. "Families stay together," she says, quoting Jane. "They help each other. They suh-suh-port each other."
Maura nods, "exactly. Mama would be so sad if she knew you were scared and didn't tell her. She loves you so much, Maya, and you being scared isn't going to make her fear worse. It isn't going to drive her away."
Maya seems to turn the words over in her mind. "Do you know that?"
Maura nods. "I do."
"How?" Maya sniffs again. "were you ever so scared?" She looks up at Maura with wide, pale eyes. Totally trusting.
"Yes," Maura hears herself say. "There was a time in my life when I was so scared."
Maya nods seriously. "Was a bad man after your Mommy?" she asks, and Maura makes a mental note to check her future conversations when Maya is nearby.
"No," she says, hesitating, weighing her options, "no. It was me they came after, not my mother."
Maya's eyes get wider, though she doesn't look frightened. She doesn't speak for a moment, just looks into Maura's face, like she can see the story laid out for her there.
Finally she pushes her dark head back against Maura's chest, her arms coming up to wrap around the doctor's neck.
"But you are here," she whispers, her six year old voice full of a much older person's ferocity, "because you are brave, like my mama."
How was anything in her life important before this family. She stands with Maya in her arms, letting her shift and find a more comfortable position. "Let's go back to bed," she whispers, and Maya nods.
"Tuck me in, Mam."
"Of course."
As they cross the hall to the girls' room, Maura presses a kiss to the top of Maya's head. "Brave does not mean hiding fear," she whispers. "It doesn't mean keeping the things that scare us inside…okay?"
Another nod against her chest. "You have me, and you have Mama."
Maya blinks sleepily up at her. "Always?"
Maura nods. "Always."
She carries the little girl into her room, settling her down under the covers the way she's seen Jane do hundreds of times. "Sleep well, sweet girl," she says quietly, and Maya reaches out to hug her around the neck one more time.
Maura pauses at the door, looking over her shoulder at the sleepy little girl looking back at her.
"Mam?"
Maura smiles. She never gets tired of that word."What is it, bug?" she asks, and in the light from the hallway she can see Maya smile, snuggling down under her blanket. "I love you. I love you so much, like you are my family. Are you my family, Mam?" She's almost asleep.
Maura answers her anyway. "Yes, pretty girl. I am." She whispers it quietly, and then she pulls the door shut.
Turning around, and nearly jumps out of her skin, just managing to stop herself from screaming. Jane is standing in the hallway behind her.
"Jane!" she hisses, "God! You scared-" But Jane moves forward and is kissing her before she can finish her sentence.
When Jane finally releases her, Maura keeps her eyes closed, still reveling a little in the feel. But Jane's words make her eyes fly open.
"It was Halloween, wasn't it?" she says quietly.
"What?" Maura tries to look like she doesn't know what Jane is talking about. The detective is not fooled.
"You were assaulted, on Halloween. Is that the fear you were trying to bury?"
Maura looks down, but Jane catches her under the chin, her eyes blazing. "Did they ra-"
"No!" Maura says quickly, watching Jane relax a little, though she doesn't let go.
"How old were you?"
"Eleven," she says, and Jane growls, deep in her chest. "It's not…"
"Don't say it's not a big deal," Jane says adamantly. "It's a big deal." She presses her head against Maura's shoulder, swaying them lazily. Maura closes her eyes, trying to think of a time when she's ever felt more connected to someone in her life.
"If I'd been there," Jane says quietly. "If I'd been there I would have kicked their asses so badly, Maur."
Maura grins, unable to stop herself from picturing it. "I know, Jane," she responds, and the brunette pulls away from her, eyes serious.
"Do you? Do you know that I'll never let anything hurt you?" She leans forward to press her lips to Mauras. "I am going to keep you safe."
"You need to stay safe," Maura says vehemently, "I need you, and those kids, to stay safe, Jane." She leans her head against Jane's chest, and the taller woman pulls her tight.
"Maura," she says "I love you. I would do anything for you. Don't worry. Everything is going to be alright."
Maura sighs, and for the next wonderful, glorious thirty seconds, Maura believes that it's true.