The More Things Change, Part 21 of 30

Pairing: Jane/Maura

Spoilers: Through "When the Gun Goes Bang, Bang, Bang"

Warnings: Nothing that I can think of.

Disclaimer: The only thing that's mine is the plot, such as it is.

Note: I alluded to Susan briefly earlier in the story. I borrowed her from draft script pages that appeared on LJ a while back.

By the end of the week, Jane felt well enough to come along on one of Maura's frequent grocery shopping trips.

Or, perhaps, less 'well enough' and more 'bored enough.'

In point of fact, she'd out and out begged. "C'mon, Maura," she said as they made their slow way back to the Jeep. "The only place I've been for weeks is your house and the hospital. I wanna go somewhere, and if that means the grocery store – well, then, damn it, I'll go to the grocery store."

In all honesty, she didn't really see the point of Maura's near-daily trips to the store – but if it gave her a chance to assuage some of her restlessness, she wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

"Again, Maura?" she'd said the day of her second physical therapy appointment. "You just went shopping yesterday."

"Produce is best when it's fresh," Maura had said, glancing at Mrs. Rizzoli, who was clearly waiting for her chance to begin another lecture. "In Europe, people generally go shopping everyday."

"Yeah, well, we're in Boston, not Paris."

"Maybe so, but didn't you tell me yesterday how good Bass's strawberries were?"

Jane opened her mouth to respond, but snapped it shut when she heard her mother's voice. "You fed my daughter turtle food?"

"Tortoise, Ma," Jane said without thinking, then snorted in amusement at herself. "And it's the other way around. She feeds her tortoise people food."

"Are you sure you're going to be all right?" Maura asked as Jane grabbed the open door to steady herself.

Don't fall, Rizzoli. She'll abandon you to Ma if you fall.

"Be fine. Just gimme a minute."

"Are you sure you're all right?" she asked again, as they crossed the line of traffic, Jane leaning heavily against the cart.

Damn it, Rizzoli, don't you dare fall down. She'll cry if you fall. Hate it when she cries.

"Yup."

Maura watched Jane move slowly down the aisle with an anxious frown. "Are you sure…?" she ventured.

Jane sighed in exasperation. "I swear to God, Maura, you ask me that one more time and I'm gonna do a damn cartwheel down the aisle."

She made it three more aisles before, on the way to the produce section, she heard Maura take a breath to speak and turned to stare at her, eyebrows raised.

She subsided, though not before she frowned at put a hand over Jane's on the handle of the cart.

"Maura," Jane huffed a few moments later, "I can get the damned spinach. It's only a few ounces."

She forced herself to ignore her wobbly legs as she left the safety of the cart for the crisper section, grabbed the first bunch of spinach she saw, and wavered her way back, handing over the bag triumphantly.

They'd just put the bag into the cart when a frumpy-looking woman approached them with a smile. "Jane?" she said. "Jane Rizzoli? Is – it is you, isn't it?"

Jane darted a glance at Maura, who subtly shrugged. "Yeah?" she asked warily.

"It's me!" Jane glanced at Maura again, who shook her head; she had no idea who the woman was. Sensing her confusion, the woman added, "Susan! We were best friends for a while in elementary school?"

Something about the whole thing seemed…forced, so Maura made it a point to observe both women carefully. Jane was clearly doing her best to keep her expression neutral, but there was a tense guardedness to her eyes that raised her hackles. "Oh, yeah," she said noncommittally. "Hey, Susan. Good to see you."

Susan rushed forward, arms open as if to offer a hug. Some instinct propelled Maura between them, and Susan drew up short. "What's wrong?"

Jane glanced at Maura and grinned, but the expression slipped off her face when she turned to look at Susan. "Gunshot wound. Wanted to be a cop, remember? Hugs hurt."

Out of the corner of her eye, Jane saw Maura's face crumple, just for a moment, with profound upset, but her deeply ingrained social graces – the ones groomed in her from her very birth – quickly replaced it with a façade of bland calm.

She edged subtly closer and was rewarded by a slight smile, even as Susan gasped and put a hand to her mouth. "Oh my God."

Jane shrugged with forced nonchalance. "What…what did you end up doing?"

"I'm a teacher. Sixth grade English and social studies." Jane nodded politely and just waited for it; she knew from long experience how civilians could be expected to react to the realities and dangers of her job. Finally, it came: "How did you get shot?"

Maura, reacting to some subliminal signal she knew she would have to determine later, interjected, "It was on the news. She – "

"You're the one who shot herself?" Susan blurted, horrified. She stared at Jane as if seeing her for the first time, and backed up a step or two.

Jane sighed. "It was stupid."

"No," Maura said, giving her a look, "it was ill-advised, impulsive, and reckless."

"Which is 'Maura' for 'stupid.'"

Maura tipped her head in a gesture that clearly meant 'touché.' Then her some of her earliest training kicked in and she extended a hand. "I'm sorry. I should introduce myself. I'm Doctor Maura Isles." She paused, pursing her lips as she evaluated her statement; in its strictest sense, it was – at that one moment, at least – the absolute truth. "I'm Jane's physical therapist."

She heard Jane snicker beside her and shot her a brief glare, which melted away into worry when she heard Jane's light gasp. She was so distracted that she almost didn't hear Susan's skeptical, "In the grocery store?"

When the comment registered, she forced herself to look away from the growing pallor of Jane's face. "It's an ideal place to walk and lift small weights," she said. "And the cart provides the stability of a walker or a cane," she added, with another quick glare at Jane, who had the decency to look abashed, "for someone who refuses to use one otherwise."

Susan rocked from foot to foot. "Hey," she finally said, awkwardly, "how's your brother Tommy?" She smiled wistfully, glancing down at the tan line on her ring finger. "I kinda had a crush on him when we were little. I remember always hoping when we went to your place that he – "

Jane's face darkened to something approaching its normal hue, for which Maura supposed she should be grateful. "He's…pretty busy," she finally muttered.

Susan's face fell. "Oh. Well…you're looking pretty tired. I should get going."

Jane nodded mechanically. "Good to see you," she said faintly.

They both watched as Susan fled.

Finally, Maura said quietly, "Hugs hurt?"

Jane winced at the pain in her voice. "Not yours." She glanced at Maura. "Swear to God."

"Jane, that's – "

Jane sighed and glanced around them. "In the grocery store? Really?" She shrugged. "Maura, yours don't hurt 'cause you care." She let go of the death grip she had on the cart for just long enough to pat her on the side. "She dumped me for some other kid when I was eight years old, and apparently only hung out with me to drool over Tommy in the first place."

"Jane…."

"I don't – what?"

"You should sit down. You're shaking."

Jane frowned. "Good idea. Where, exactly?"

Maura sighed and rubbed her back gently, then led the way to the checkout counter. She could always have the rest of her groceries delivered.