AN: Thank you so much for all the likes and follows and lovely reviews on chapter 1! This one is a meld of Jane's past and present - anything between line breaks and italic is the past, everything else in the present with Jane's thoughts also represented in italic throughout. It's a little wordy and the way that Jane whips back and forth is intentional, to give you an idea of her mindset. Enjoy!
Jane Rizzoli cannot sleep.
She's tried all her usual tricks - throwing back a very generous pour of whiskey, listening to her super-secret meditation playlist, and even reluctantly trying a glass of warm milk.
Nothing has worked. Nothing will work.
For three whole weeks, she'd avoided Maura entirely both in and out of work, helped along by a lack of any cases that required them to work together. She'd spent all of her free time laying low at home, deflecting any social invitations from her family and friends with excuses of being too busy or too tired, fearing what might happen if she tried to feign normality when nothing felt normal.
Jane had so far managed to suppress all of her feelings and worries, telling herself that the long sleepless nights of tossing and turning were worth the weight had been shifted from her shoulders, right up until that 115lb weight had texted her exactly three hours and thirty-eight minutes ago. Now, once again, every time she closes her eyes she's tormented by a replay of that evening all those weeks ago - of Maura and her hushed revelations and her ridiculously soft lips.
The anxiety associated with situations that Jane cannot control is her Achilles heel, something that very few people in her life are aware of. Her work life is meticulously organized down to the very last detail, and her personal life is planned to a tee despite the bull in a china shop facade that she projects. When Jane feels like she does right now - unsure and spiraling wildly out of control, it's all too easy to push the coping methods gained from years of therapy to one side and do her own thing, which ultimately seems to involve destroying herself and everything around her in an attempt at self-preservation.
It's a hard habit to break.
Jane Rizzoli is 19 years old. She sits stiffly in a chair at her new therapist's office, her fourth in as many months. She's surprised that she's made it to a second appointment, given that they usually throw the towel in by the end of the first. The woman that sits across from her - Cassandra - studies her intently and scribbles something down onto the notebook that rests in her lap. Jane dreads to think what this might be, or what this woman thinks of her.
"How are you feeling today Jane?"
"Like this is a waste of our time." She doesn't lift her head to respond, content with staring at the floor and wishing it would open up and swallow her whole.
"What makes you think that?" Cassandra prompts, readying her pen to write down all the awful things that Jane might blurt out.
"I'm only here because my mom threatens to send me away to family if I don't comply." It's partly the truth - Angela had suggested that Jane take a long vacation at her grandparents' ranch, but Jane had point-blank refused to even consider the idea. She couldn't think of anything worse than being shipped off to the relatives that they rarely see. It's difficult enough to play the straight, charming granddaughter they expect at Christmas, something she can't even begin to comprehend doing when she feels open and vulnerable and is questioning everything about herself.
"I'm sure that she has your best interests at heart. She's your mom Jane - she cares about you."
"If she cared one bit about me she'd leave me alone." Jane utters through gritted teeth, hands squeezing around the tennis ball that she'd picked up from the table in front of her hard that her knuckles turn white.
"Does her care anger you?"
"No. I don't know. I don't need anyone and I don't need anything. I'm fine." She hears the wavering of her own voice and leaps to her feet, pacing back and forth. She's rarely still these days - moving around keeps her distracted from her own mind and gives her something to focus on but the task at hand.
"Are you?" The voice of the woman sitting across from her is calming and caring and Jane knows exactly what she's trying to do - she's trying to lull Jane into a sense of security so she'll split open and lay everything out to be assessed and analysed...her distress, her sexuality, her deepest, darkest desires - every damn skeleton that hides in her closet.
Jane refuses to fall for it.
"Am I what?" The ball thunks loudly as she bounces it off the wall across from her, catching it and repeating the movement, the rhythmic thud replacing the throttling silence in the room.
"Are you fine?"
"Yes."
"I don't think that's true. I know that you're hurting and angry and that you don't trust me, but that's okay. We'll build that trust together."
Jane tenses with effort as she slams the ball against the wall harder now, the framed pictures and accolades that hang from it shaking with every hit. She absolutely does not want to be here, playing into some cheesy mind-game therapist bullshit.
"It's okay to not be okay, Jane."
She allows the ball to bounce haphazardly away from her, rooted to the spot. She's so used to people suggesting that she needs to get 'better' and that she should 'move on' that hearing someone who doesn't even know her tell her something entirely different almost floors her.
"What?" She manages to croak out, her head beginning to pound from the effort of keeping up a tough guy, unbothered image. She's so tired of this - of life at the moment, of keeping up this giant lie so that she doesn't crack apart.
"You don't have to be strong all the time. You've been through a lot, and you've managed exceptionally well under the circumstances, but you don't have to do it alone."
Tears begin to fall and she wipes them away, a fresh wave of shame at showing her emotions washing over her with such a force that she feels like she might drown. She wants to move - to walk out and slam the door and carry on as she has, but she knows that she can't. Avoiding everyone, picking fights with her parents, skipping class to spend endless days in her dark bedroom...it's beginning to take its toll and Jane is afraid of what might happen if she let it fully overtake her.
"I'm not here to judge your choices or your past. I'm here to help."
Jane wordlessly moves back to slump down into the chair, her own short, panicked breaths filling the sound of her ears. She's sure she can hold on, hold it in. She fights to the very last second until Cassandra silently passes her a tissue and rests a hand on Jane's knee, and then she can't stop the cry that escapes her, ringing in her throat and making her feel dizzy.
She's not okay. She can't do this anymore.
Jane sits cross-legged in the centre of her bed, her phone illuminating her darkened bedroom as she reads Maura's message for what feels like the thousandth time, struggling to suppress the impulse to run to the kitchen and introduce her phone to the garbage disposal.
I fear that I've made a mess of things, but please don't avoid me. I stand by everything I said. I miss you, Jane. M.
She'd be lying if she said that she'd never felt the same way that Maura apparently does but does she want to put herself through this again? Heartache, pain, and emptiness. No, it's way easier to sidestep and pretend this never happened. Move on, as friends. Nothing more. Nothing less.
Jane is torn between seething at Maura for the wound she's opened up and feeling crushing guilt for how she's reacting. She never wants to hurt Maura, but it seems inevitable. Either way, she knows she won't come out of this unscathed.
She barely survived last time.
When the first few rays of dawn creep through her window she gives up on trying to rest, springing out of bed and towards her bathroom. She brushes her teeth and throws her hair into a ponytail, splashing cold water on her face in the hopes that it'll clear her mind, even a little. It doesn't.
She barrels towards her closet and throws the doors open, rifling through the contents with so much impatience that the hangers clatter loudly and fall and she can't help but shout out, knocking shirts and pants and dresses out of her way and to the floor with a sweep of her arm. Unsatisfied in her search, she slams the closet doors and turns her attention to the pile of clean laundry in the corner of her room. She scolds herself as she rummages, wishing that she cared enough to do trivial, stupid things like put laundry away. Who has the time for stuff like that, really?
Maura.
Even thinking her name triggers a landslide of new frustration in Jane and she huffs to herself, throwing on an old BPD sweatshirt and her favorite pair of yoga leggings.
How can Maura say those things so freely? What if this is risking everything that they already have? And why the hell can she not stop picturing Maura pressed against her, lips parted and eyes heavy with need - a need for her, of all people?
She pulls on the first pair of sneakers she can find and then scoops up her phone, tucking it into the pocket of her leggings. It's 6am, on her one day off in two weeks. A blessing, she supposes, that she doesn't have to go to work today. She doesn't have to see anyone. She can continue her game of avoidance and oversight.
Or so she thinks.
She foregoes breakfast, pacing around the kitchen until she finds her sunglasses and cap and keys, and then she warms up by jogging down the eight floors of her apartment building before bursting out in the chilly morning sun. She picks up the pace, her legs already burning by the time she reaches Boston Common - her choice of place to run, usually for its proximity to work but mostly for the post-workout pastry from Carlino's that she treats herself to when she's done.
It's eerily quiet and Jane stops for a moment, taking a deep breath before she sets off at speed, determined to push her body until her brain starts to quieten. It's been a long time since Jane ran - once, some time ago with Maura but before that, it'd been years since she'd found a release in it.
"Physical activity has great benefits, for both the mind and the body."
Jane grunts in reply, pulling her cap further down her face to cover her exasperated expression. She's not in the mood to talk today, despite Cassandra's best efforts to instigate some meaningful conversation. It's exactly six months to the day that their sessions began, but Jane is in no mood for celebrating.
"The coach at your new school sounds nice. Maybe you could approach her about signing up for some classes?" Cassandra taps her pen against her chin thoughtfully.
"I hate everyone there." She mumbles, catching her bottom lip between her teeth and nipping, her self-inflicted punishment for opening her mouth once again.
"What do you hate about them?"
Jane hates it when she asks questions like this. Of course, she doesn't hate literally everyone but putting her thoughts into words is tiring and she'd hoped that by expressing how drained she is meant she'd catch a break from this inquisition, but no such luck.
"The way they look at me. They all know what happened. I can tell."
"How would they know?"
"Kids talk, Cass, especially about shit like that."
"I wouldn't be so sure. You'd be surprised how little people look outside of themselves, and their own problems."
"You're not there, you don't see it. I do. Every damn day. I hate it." She kicks her foot against the solid oak table a few inches away from her, eyes flicking up to Cassandra's face to gauge her response and then back down into her lap.
"I hate physical activity too." Jane mimes air quote and then drops her hands back down.
"Have you tried running?" Cassandra is a keen runner, something that Jane's mild stalking one night several weeks ago had already revealed.
Jane doesn't respond and Cassandra shifts in her chair, placing the notebook and pen that she'd been writing in out of Jane's sight.
"A few of my clients prefer sessions out in the open air. It's nothing something that I offer to everyone but I'd like to try it with you if you're interested?"
She shrugs casually, not knowing how to reply.
"I'll take that as a yes. It can't hurt to try?" Cassandra smiles and Jane can't stop the slight smile that creeps onto her face - the first positive reaction to any suggestion that Cassandra has made since their sessions began.
Maybe they're finally getting somewhere.
The burn in Jane's lungs forces her to focus solely on breathing, and for this she is thankful. Her legs are aching and her heart is pounding erratically as she approaches the last stretch of the Common, sore and weary but with a little more clarity than she'd had in weeks.
She doesn't need to be scared of Maura. She doesn't need to be scared of them. She's not a gullible kid anymore - she knows who she is and what she wants, and she's not going to let the past ruin that for her.
She can do this. She can handle this. She's a stronger, better woman than she was all those years ago.
She's sitting on a bench less than a hundred feet away from Jane, two coffees next to her.
It's her favorite coffee. Of course it is.
Jane skids to a stop so abruptly that her feet skid on the loose gravel and she topples forward, the left side of her body crashing into the asphalt with a thud. She's embarrassed and annoyed and not engaging her brain when she drags herself to her feet, close to falling right back down when pain shoots upwards from her shin.
She brushes the dirt from her face and hair and takes a deep breath before looking down - down at her torn, broken skin and the stream of red that has begun to soak the lip of her sneaker.
Goddamn it.
She tests her weight by taking a step and her face crumples in agony. It's a mistake to try and walk and she knows she should just call out, but she's stubborn and furious - so furious that she's prepared to drag herself all the way home slowly, potentially bleeding to death rather than accepting help from the one person that she has been hiding away from.
Jane grits her teeth and tries again, this time hopping slowly on her uninjured leg. It hurts but it works and she's thrilled with her deranged plan to sneak away unnoticed, all but punching the air in triumph.
She only makes it a few feet away before she is forced to stop, guilt inching in at her own cowardice. She looks towards the head of honey blonde hair shining in the sun, weighing her very limited options. Maura hasn't registered her presence yet, and Jane knows she could damn well make it home if she tried but all she can picture is the disappointment on Maura's face, and before she can really think about what she's doing she's yelling Maura's name aloud.
"Jane? Oh!"
Footsteps scamper towards her and then an arm wordlessly wraps around her waist, guiding her towards the bench. Maura is warm and kind and loving and Jane is so fucking unprepared and annoyed that she can't even bring herself to sit down, choosing to slowly limp back and forth instead despite Maura's protest.
"What are you even doing here Maura?" Jane spits out, the hurt on Maura's face immediately subduing the anger that threatens to spill forward.
"You usually come here on your time off. I thought I might find you at some point, so we could talk."
"You were just gonna sit here all day and wait for me, on a whim that I might be here?" Jane scoffs, kicking at the ground beneath her feet with her injured leg and immediately regretting it.
"Yes. Sit, please. Let me help." Maura gestures towards the blood that oozes down Jane's leg and then reaches into her handbag, pulling out a small first-aid kid.
"It's fine. Honestly. Can we just go? Please?" Jane rips open the offered bandaid packet with her teeth and then slaps it over her knee quickly.
"You're very clumsy."
"Mmhm." Jane agrees, taking a sip from her water bottle and then pouring some into her hands to rinse her grazed palms.
"You are aware that this is supposed to be a productive exercise, not an actual race against me?" Cass chuckles lightly and Jane sighs, wiping her wet hands across her face.
"It's not my fault that you can't keep up."
"I'd argue that you're literally trying to run away from our discussion, and to your own undoing, it would seem. That was quite a fall."
Cass isn't wrong, and although Jane breathes out a laugh and shrugs it off, she knows that she can't dodge talking about it forever. She's still thinking of a clever comeback when Cass jogs away from her, turning to shout behind her.
"We don't have to talk about it today - if you can get to the lake first."
Hysterical laughter bubbles from Jane - she's not sure if it's from the absurdity of the situation she finds herself in or the pain, but she wheezes for breath as she laughs, finally caving and sliding down onto the bench next to Maura.
"Oh, man. Are we playing doctor?"
"Did you hit your head when you fell?" Maura doesn't wait for a reply, tilting Jane's face towards her own and holding a finger in front of her.
"Follow, please."
"Maur, c'mon. I'm fine." Jane swats Maura's hand away from her face and it is instantly replaced by a ridiculously bright pen torch. She squints and sighs and knowing that Maura won't let it drop she gives in, dutifully allowing Maura to check her over.
"Pupillary response is slightly more sluggish that I'd expect." Hands twist her head from side to side and then Maura removes Jane's baseball cap, placing it in her handbag. She inspects every inch of Jane's head for a wound, too distracted to notice the goose-bumps that dot Jane's bare arms at her fingertips brushing against Jane's neck.
"You don't have a head injury. How would you rate your attention span? One to ten? Are you getting adequate sleep? Sleep deprivation would explain it."
"What?" Jane laughs but Maura continues, muttering under her breath to herself.
She bites back another laugh when Maura stops talking and begins to snap on a pair of surgical gloves, her amusement quickly dying off as Maura drops to her knees in front of Jane, soft hands inspecting her injured leg.
Jane's throat tightens and she's on the verge of making a very crude joke when a white-hot pain makes her jolt upright, gripping the edge of the bench to steady herself.
"What the fu-"
"Pre-tibial laceration."
"A what?" Jane squints down at her outstretched leg, afraid to look properly.
"It's worse than it seems, but it needs treatment. I drove, if you can make it to the car we can go to Mass General."
"Hold up. I'm not going anywhere. It's fine, right? Just stick a bandaid on?"
"Not a bandaid." Maura shakes her head, peeling off her gloves.
If there is one thing Jane hates more than anything, it's a hospital - nothing good has ever come of her visiting a hospital. She shivers at the thought, convinced that she can already smell that sanitized, sterile gross smell.
Maura - fully aware of Jane's intense dislike at her proposed solution - takes a bandage from her purse-sized kit and carefully rolls it around Jane's leg before tying a neat knot to keep it secure. The bleeding has already started to slow, and although she'd rather someone more versed in the wounds of the living look it over she's confident that she can handle this herself.
"I can do it if you'd prefer."
"Yeah?" Jane glances at her leg and then back at Maura. She considers refusing and fighting but she's so sick of resisting that she nods her head in agreement. "Yeah. Okay."
Fifteen minutes and several stares at Jane limping through the Common later and they're in Maura's car, the pain in Jane's leg lessening as she focuses on hot delicious coffee in her hands. She sinks back into the leather seat, closing her eyes.
Something about water lapping quietly against the shore they sit on brings Jane an odd kind of peace, and when Cass asks her to talk candidly she doesn't feel the anxiety or worry that usually renders her silent.
She feels still. Secure. She can trust this woman.
She begins.
"I thought she loved me. I loved her. I loved her more than anyone I've loved before." Jane pauses, waiting for the usual retort of how she's young and that she'll love again, but it doesn't come.
"She knew everything about me, and I thought I knew everything about her. God, I was so stupid. I see that now, but I didn't then. I trusted her - like really trusted her, ya know?"
Cass nods and she continues.
"We'd been friends forever, and then one day she came to my room and she kissed me and that's how it started. I didn't question it - I knew I liked girls and I knew that I felt some way about her, so I thought she'd just picked up on that and felt the same." She plucks a long stalk of grass from the ground and intertwines it between her fingers, staring out at the lake.
"She made me feel good about myself and good about being with her. It was easy, but I guess that's what she wanted. She wanted me to be swept up in this perfect fairytale that she'd created and I was. I trusted her with everything. Everything."
"We weren't out to anyone. She wanted to keep it our secret. Her parents were real strict, straight-laced people that believed that a woman belongs with a man, and she was terrified of what they might do if they found out. She didn't have friends at first - neither of us did. We had each other. It was her mom and dad and their openly homophobic friends that introduced her to the group she eventually started hanging around with all the time. She didn't talk about them and I just ignored it. I didn't want her to think I was trying to control her. If I'd known what she was becoming part of..."
She gulps from her water bottle, blinking away the tears that have begun to gather.
"I didn't know. She started to close off and pull away from me, so I did everything that I could to try and win her back. She started asking for me to send her things - private things, and I did without hesitation. I really thought I could trust her. I gave her everything she asked for. Pictures, videos, messages. I felt wanted and it seemed to keep her close and I didn't even ask why. I just did it. I was just so happy that she stayed with me that I could look past all the red flags and warning signs, even when I knew it had gone too far."
She can't stop now, even if she wanted, even though every fiber of her feels raw and exposed.
"This group she joined...I found out that they were actively campaigning against homosexuality in schools statewide. She'd stayed the night and fallen asleep with her laptop open and unlocked, and when an email from one of them came through curiosity got the better of me. I didn't know what to do, so I just acted like I'd never seen it. What a fuckin' mistake that turned out to be. I'll never forget walking into that dance. I'll never forget her standing at the microphone, holding open my diary and reading. I wanted to stop her but I couldn't move. I don't know why, I just stood there and listened to her telling everyone how disgusting I was. How gay I was. How I'd tricked her into this awful relationship but she'd seen the light and wanted everyone to know how fucked up I was."
She openly cries now and she takes a ragged breath, forcing herself to finish.
"Even when they all started to laugh and yell and shove I didn't move. I didn't do anything until my mom yanked me out of the crowd and led me out to the car, past all the pictures and letters that were stuck on every single locker. She bundled me into the car and drove me home and we didn't speak until the next morning after my dad had gone to work. She told me that she'd handled it, that I didn't have to go back to that school and that I'd never have to see Grace again, and that she loved me no matter who I was, but I didn't want to hear it."
"Jane..." Cass begins but Jane interrupts her.
"She tried so hard to fight for me and I threw it all back in her face. I don't know why. I just needed to be alone. She and my dad started arguing and they're getting a divorce, and I know it's because of me. All of this is my fault."
"You can't blame yourself for the cruel actions of others."
"But if I'd known-"
"You couldn't have known. You're only human Jane."
"Jane? We're here. You fell asleep."
She blinks open her eyes groggily, surprised and slightly nervous to see that they are parked in Maura's driveway and not the BPD parking garage as she'd expected.
"Why?" She gestures out at the house, still half asleep.
"Why? Oh. I'm taking annual leave today."
"You don't take days off Maura."
"Not usually, but we booked this date together. We were going to-"
"To spend the day shopping for clothes for your trip and then go for dinner at Mario's. Something for you and something for me." Jane finishes Maura's sentence for her, mentally kicking herself for not remembering.
"It's okay. We can talk inside?" Maura suggests hopefully and Jane relents, her stomach churning queasily as Maura leads her through the house and into her bathroom, seating Jane on the edge of the bathtub.
"I'll be right back. Take that off?"
"What?" She looks up sharply, cheeks reddening when Maura points at the bandage on her leg.
She's got to get her mind out of the damn gutter and relax.
Jane takes deep, slow breaths, bracing herself against the side of the tub. She's not such what to say or how to start - she wants to tell Maura everything but the words feel tangled and unfamiliar in her head. Nothing comes to mind, even when Maura returns and gingerly sets to work on her leg, so she stays quiet and it's Maura that breaks the silence.
"I shouldn't have kissed you like that. I'm sorry."
Wow. Straight to the point.
"I'm sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable, or coerced into doing something you didn't want to do. That wasn't my intention and I should have approached the situation differently. This may hurt."
Before she can ask what Maura means, she's interrupted by the painful sting of antiseptic, clamping her teeth together and resisting the urge to scream.
"I did warn you. I had to clean it. Sorry."
"Can't you give me a shot or something?" Jane pleas but Maura shakes her head in refusal.
"The worst of it is over. I'll put some butterfly sutures on next, and then a waterproof dressing. You must try and keep it dry, at least until it starts to heal. I still think you'd be better off seeing a doctor."
Neither of them speaks again until after Maura has finished and stands at the basin, drying her freshly washed hands on the towel that hangs next to the one that Jane uses when she stays over.
Jane's eyes pass over other familiar objects dotted around the room - her spare toothbrush, the black bathrobe that Maura had bought for her, her preferred brand of body wash neatly sitting next to Maura's in the shower. She doesn't have to take a tour around the house to know that she has items in every room, from a drawer full of her laundered clothes in the spare bedroom to her favorite beers chilling in the fridge in the kitchen.
Being with Maura - at work, at home, and everywhere in between is easy. Jane spends more time here than she does at her own apartment, and when she's here she feels like she can be herself. It feels like home.
"Maura..." Jane meets Maura's gaze in the reflection of the mirror, intending to start the conversation that she's trying to avoid but coming up short.
Fuck. Why is this so hard? Why can't I just tell her?
Jane is crying then, and she watches through her tears as Maura wets a washcloth and then brings it over to her, tilting Jane's face upwards. She removes Jane's baseball cap and gently dabs the cold cloth to her forehead and cheeks.
"You're exhausted."
It's not a question - Maura knows. She's spent enough time with Jane to accurately identify how she's feeling at any given moment, something that both soothes and freaks Jane out.
"I have a few things to do this morning, but you're welcome to stay. You should stay. Would you like to lie down?"
Weeks of sleepless nights and the tornado of emotions that has ripped through her has left her dead on her feet.
Jane nods and takes Maura's outstretched hand, relishing even the smallest touch. She allows herself to be nudged into the direction of Maura's bedroom, dropping onto the clean sheets of Maura's bed fully clothed.
She's aware of Maura removing her shoes and adjusting a pillow under her head. She knows that she needs to talk before she loses the nerve completely, but she's comfortable and drowsy and when Maura tucks the comforter around her and presses her lips to Jane's temple in an act of pure tenderness Jane can do nothing but close her eyes and succumb to sweet, sweet sleep.
Talking will have to wait.