A/N: This flashback is set two years after the previous one.
Maura arrives at the Myrtle Street playground just after 9AM with her two children. Cristina, now five, walks just ahead of Maura, who carries Cicciu on the short walk from their car to the park. Maura kisses his cold cheek as they make their way through the iron gates.
The air is wet and chilly, but Cristina pays it no mind: once she sees Hope sitting on a bench in the middle of the playground, she bolts to her. The sooner she can get her hugs, the sooner she can join the rest of the children swinging and climbing the jungle gyms.
"Hi, Cristina! Oh, you've gotten so big since I've last seen you!" Hope rises from her seat and opens her arms just in time for the coming onslaught, and the momentum of their meeting causes her to swing Cristina around, lifting her high in the air.
"You just saw me yesterday, Grandma!" Cristina shrieks happily. She leans into a few of the kisses given to her by Hope, and then pushes the tops of Hope's shoulders.
"I love you; go play," Hope tells her, releasing her after one more squeeze. When Cristina's feet drop to the ground, she darts toward the play equipment, giggling as soon as she joins three other children on the merry-go-round.
Maura brings Cicciu to Hope, and Hope pulls her coat tighter to herself just before accepting him. He is more timid and surveys the chaos around him carefully. "Hi, Mom," says Maura, squeezing her mother's hand as they complete the trade-off.
"Hi, honey," says Hope with a smile. "And you, Franciscu, oh you just get cuter everyday," she says as she crushes him in a hug. His wavy black hair pokes out under a Red Sox beanie, and when he hugs her back, Hope can smell his shampoo and the blueberry pancakes he had for breakfast.
Maura stands, lets her son take in his surroundings and the easy affection of his grandmother, because in his two-plus years of life she has learned that he needs processing time: his nervous system requires time to acclimate and regulate. So, she is quiet and speaks slowly. "The swings? Or the slide?"
Cicciu turns to his mother and thinks for a moment. "Swings," he says, still in Hope's arms. She lets him go, and he toddles to the small swings, right next to the bench where Maura and Hope now sit.
They keep an eye on him and the others right around his age, who are surrounded by various mothers and caregivers. Hope takes a Thermos out of the bag she has brought, and fills two metal mugs with the Colombian coffee blend that she brewed at home.
Home for Hope is two blocks away, on one of the nicest streets of Beacon Hill. She had convinced Paddy to move there after their children left home, and it took another three years for him to acquiesce. Maura had resented the choice for a short time, because South Boston had always been the Doyles' home, but once her parents settled and she visited them more often, she saw the appeal.
The only time she plans to leave the North End is in a body bag, but still, Beacon Hill has its positives.
She sips the high-end coffee with pleasure, and then lets the tendrils of steam crawl up her cold nose. "Cristina is so much more social than Ciccinu," Maura comments, calling him by the nickname of his nickname because her heart swells with warmth at the sight of him being helped on the swing by his sister.
"He's a lot like you were at his age," Hope says, eyes glossy with memory. "So pensive and observant."
"I just hope that he doesn't struggle to make to friends like I did," Maura responds. When she sees him crack a smile at the laughing boy next to him, her fear abates.
"How is he progressing socially-emotionally? Milestones met?" Hope puts her OB-GYN hat on, turning towards her daughter and adopting an open posture, inviting conversation.
Maura thinks back to her development classes in medical school. "He engages in highly complex pretend play, especially by himself, but he is starting to cooperatively play as well. He refers to himself by his name, he can let us know when he has to go to the bathroom…" she lists milestones that she can remember, and smirks when she thinks of a particularly spirited story-time he had with Jane the previous evening. "He finds things funny, especially when Jane means them to be."
"That's all beautiful growth," Hope assures her. "How's his language?"
Maura doesn't get this chance often, to speak to another doctor. She relishes it, because Jane often assures her that their children are doing just fine, but Jane doesn't have an MD. "He is asking so many questions - where are we going? What are we doing? He uses pronouns with ease when he talks about me and about himself. He is learning so many words, and, this is an estimate, but I'd say his mean length of utterance is around 3.6."
"Superb," Hope says. "Above average. You know that; you don't need me to tell you."
"Yes, well, sometimes it's still nice to hear," Maura tells her mother.
"I understand. You always were soothed by data, Maura. Me too. I'm happy to provide that for you," Hope says, patting Maura's wrist. Just then, Cicciu bursts out of his swing, and runs to the littlest jungle gym across from them to climb the stairs for the slide.
"I appreciate it," Maura says. Lately, conversations with Hope have been easier. They haven't butted heads, and they've established common ground as mothers - even if Hope had Maura at 18, and didn't know half as much when she started.
"But, can I also say that as their grandmother, I am very subjectively proud of every little thing they do," Hope replies. "Brushing their teeth? Standing ovation. Pulling shoes on? Encore, please," she teases, and it gets a laugh out of Maura.
"Jane has taken their drawings to a woodshop in our neighborhood to get them custom-framed," Maura admits with a rush, as if it is a secret to be kept, a secret that enthralls her.
"They're lucky to have her," says Hope. To Maura, her smile looks sad, with the slight downturn of her lips and the softening of her brow.
"She is quite concerned that Cicciu isn't throwing overhand," Maura says in order to lighten the mood. "She's convinced he's going to be the Patriots' quarterback."
Hope laughs once, and she clasps her hands around her cup as she holds it in her lap. "You're lucky to have her, too, you know."
"Have you been talking to Dad about her?" Maura asks. "He says the same thing."
"No, not really," Hope chuckles. "I meant someone who's faithful."
Maura darkens immediately."Well, Jane will never be able to saddle me with a Colin. Unless she gets pregnant, which, would never happen. Back to your point about her being faithful," she says. Hope is looking away, trying not to cry, so Maura grabs her hand. She sighs. "I know it hurt you," she tells Hope. "I know that what he did really broke your trust in him."
Hope shakes her head. "No. I mean yes, of course it hurt me personally, because my husband sought out intimacy with someone else. But I was so, so mad, honey. I was mad because more connections in this world makes your father more vulnerable. Suddenly, he was beholden to this woman and her child, and I had no idea if they could be trusted! And if they could, we had no idea about the people around them. I was angry that he cheated, but I was so, so afraid for him. I feared for his life, because the more family he had, the more his enemies could try to leverage that family to ruin him."
"I… I never thought of it that way," Maura sputters. She leans back against the bench, dazed. "All of the fights you had, before Colin came to us, were about that?"
"Not all," Hope replies. "Some, of course, were because I was feeling unloved and unattractive to him. He was… and is, the only serious partner I have ever had. What was I supposed to believe about myself if he no longer found me desirable?"
"God, Mom," Maura exclaims breathlessly. "I'm so sorry. I want to say I can't imagine the kind of worry you were feeling, but…"
"You do?" Hope prods. Maura nods. "That's what I mean when I say that you're lucky to have someone who is faithful to you. It's good for your marriage, of course. But it's also one less source of fear in this life that we live."
"That's by Jane's design," says Maura. She feels no small amount of pride when she does, though she keeps it to herself to spare her mother's feelings. "She loves only me because she has to, because she feels it, but also because she is very intentional about who she does and doesn't let into our lives. She has this saying, 'no new friends.' It rings especially true after what you've just told me."
"I think it's a smart motto to live by," Hope agrees. She sips her coffee and looks out to the playground, waving when Cristina waves to her. "I wish your father would have adopted it, long ago."
Maura sits at a table in Pisa alone. She swirls the red wine in her glass between her thumb and her forefinger, watching the centrifugal force pull the liquid to the center of rotation. The science comforts her, even as she sits alone. She has her elbows on the tablecloth, and she stares down: her cleavage sits above her crossed forearms, tasteful and yet begging for an audience to entice. It's a shame, she thinks, that no one is here to appreciate the work she's done, with her legs bare in a tight black dress, its one section of white covering her toned abdomen. Her hair has recently been highlighted and styled, and the diamonds in her wedding ring and her ears glisten with the promise of money.
She regrets, especially, that it is not Jane sitting across from her. She tamps down the rare shame of being stood up, and pulls her iPhone from her purse. She speed dials her favorite number and waits, twirling the napkin in her lap around her finger.
"Date goin that bad?" Jane's deep scratch sounds even deeper and scratchier on the phone and Maura can't help but smile. "Need me to bail you out?"
"He stood me up," Maura says.
"You kiddin' me? He really is a bonehead," says Jane. "Here I am, home alone and jealous, and he doesn't even show up to the dates he does have with you?"
"That's why I called you," Maura injects some syrup into her voice. "Because I'm here all alone, too."
"And there's no reason why we should be?" Jane asks.
"I'm looking at an empty chair across from me and I keep thinking that I should be looking at you instead," Maura replies.
"Maybe we should give him a few more minutes?" Jane hedges, "Italians aren't exactly known for being punctual."
"Did you see what I was wearing when I walked out of the house?" Maura says it like a threat and she hears something clatter to the floor on the other end.
"Shit, sorry. I'm puttin' my shoes on now," Jane tells her.
Maura laughs, lifting her head to do so, showcasing the pretty column of her neck. Unfortunately, this also allows her to see the front door of the restaurant, where Giovanni finally enters. "Damn. Jane? I'm sorry, my love. But he just walked in the door."
Jane is all business again, and Maura hears it. Any thoughts of them dining together have been discarded for their plan, which is apparently back on track. "Alright, call me when you're done. Love you."
"I love you too," Maura says quickly. She puts her phone back in her purse before he spots her, and when he does, he waves to her and marches over to her table.
"Oh my god, babe, I'm sorry I'm late," he says, out of breath. He kisses her cheek, and then sits down.
Immediately, the game is on and before she even speaks she puts on a hint of melancholy for him like makeup. "Hi, Gio. Don't worry about it; I'm just glad you're here."
He spreads his napkin and puts his hand up for the waiter, regarding her seriously. "Oh yeah? I'm happy to hear it. Though uh, you don't look as glad as you're sayin'. Everythin' alright?"
"Yes, of course," Maura says, starting off brightly, and then lowering her head. "I… I don't know why, but I feel like I can trust you."
Giovanni leans in. "Sure ya can. With anythin'. I'm all ears," he assures her, so serious that he waves the waiter away when his wine is brought. He pours from Maura's bottle and stares at her intently.
"It's just… that was Jane on the phone," confesses Maura. "Right when you walked in."
"Ok," Giovanni goads her.
"We, well, it's stupid really," Maura waves him off and then dabs at her eye with her finger.
"No it's not," he says. "What happened?"
"We… went back and forth, about dinner," says Maura.
"She know you're here with me?" Giovanni pales, taking a hearty gulp of his wine.
"No, of course not," Maura reassures him. "But I'm starting not to care if she did, you know? It started as something small, about her having to get dinner for the kids, but then it blew up, like it always does." She puts her head in her hands and huffs out of frustration. "I just… don't know how much more I can take."
"Of Janie?" Giovanni asks her. He cannot hide the shock in his open mouth and quizzical brows.
Maura nods slightly. "And we, you and I, met by chance here, and you've been so kind to me… it reminds me of how it could be. I see that I could have that again."
"You could, Maura," Giovanni all but pounces over the table at her. He grabs her hand in his own and holds her gaze. "You can find a way. I mean look at Teresa. She and her pop are stackin' capital, tryin' to get out from under Jane's thumb, too. She wants to buy her independence from the East Boston motel."
Maura balks, unable to hide her contempt for a split second. "Jane would never allow that," she says sternly. She sees his eyes narrow, so she reels herself in. "And that's what I mean. She's hard to escape. In a way, you've been an escape for me, G," she says. She turns her hand so that she can stroke the webspace next his thumb, and she intertwines their fingers.
"You been an escape for me, too," Giovanni responds. His body relaxes, and he stares longingly at their hands on the table. "I know we haven't done much," he starts.
"Yet," Maura interjects with a shy smile.
"Yet," he reiterates. "But I already feel so close to you, Maura. And that's been holding me down while things get real hot and heavy at work."
Maura watches his eyes flutter towards hers, then down to her breasts, and then to some far off place. She sees him thinking. "Oh? Have things been tense?"
"I'll say," Giovanni answers. He scratches his manicured beard and his leg fidgets under the table. "Carlo thinks there's a rat among us. And he's got an idea of who, but he's not a hundred percent sure yet, so until then, things are real hush-hush."
Maura leans forward, truly intrigued for the first time. A rat in their ranks could have dire implications for her family, too. "Do you have any ideas?" She asks.
He crosses his arms. "Yeah, I do. But don't worry, I'm gonna look out for us. So is Carlo. When the time comes, we'll all know."
Sensing he would say no more, Maura pulled back, suddenly bubbly again. She holds his hand still, and points to the menu with her free one. "Well, what do you say? Should we order? I'm going to get you to try something new tonight, just you watch."
The next morning, Maura stretches her calves on a bench in Boston Common, just a few blocks from her parents' Beacon Hill home. The sun shines brightly at seven in the morning, and the city bustles with vitality. So does Maura: the kids are at school for zero period, Jane is off to work with Frankie, and Maura herself is ready to channel all her productivity into a run. She zips her lavender jacket up just a bit higher to guard against the wind chill, and then switches to massaging her hamstrings while she waits.
She doesn't have to wait long, however, because her brother Colin, in runner's tights and a black hoodie, jogs up beside her. He is tall, like their father, and he has their family's signature brown-blonde hair. His is darker than Maura's, because he wears it naturally and she highlights hers, but with his green eyes and long, thin nose, there is no denying that they are related. "Hey, Maura," he says. He doesn't smile, which is rare for him, but he does kiss her cheek.
She takes the affection from him happily. Besides Jane, Maura really only accepts physical touch from him, and the Rizzolis. He's her best friend. "Hi, Colin," she greets him back. "Are you ready?"
"Always," he says, and they fall into their warm-up jog together, striding side-by-side on the path closest to the fence of the park. "We're doing the marathon next spring, right?"
"Of course," Maura replies. "How are you feeling about that?"
Colin shrugs and his brow turns down. "Calf is feeling a lot better, almost a hundred percent. I'll definitely be ready to go by April."
Instead of determined, he seems sad to Maura. Or maybe nervous. She resolves to see if that continues throughout their run. "Well, that's good, right? I know it was painful for awhile."
"Yeah it was," he responds. "And it is. It's good. I'll be happy to stretch it out and see what I can do again." Then he jogs a few steps ahead of her, stretching his longer legs.
He doesn't usually, so Maura hangs back, content to let him work out, and then let him come back when he's ready. If he's ready. They continue this way for the majority of their warm-up mile. Then Colin hangs back, and turns around to run backwards. "Hi," she says warmly.
This time, he can't help the grin that takes him over. "Hey," he says. Then he schools his lips into a neutral line again. "How're things? Work-wise?"
"Things are good," Maura answers quizzically. "And for you?"
"Things are movin' in the world of cybercrime," Colin whispers behind his hand. Maura laughs. "I mean, I do all right. Dad mostly lets me run things, so I can't really complain. It doesn't leave a lot of room for me to move up, though."
"I think you're the only one Dad would trust to run an internet business," Maura says. She hears how she sanitizes what their father does with her language, and it's something that Colin has always hated. He is a radical truth-teller.
This time, however, he lets it slide. "I don't know. Mom says I should put all this brainpower to good use and go back to school. But tell me what legitimate profession is gonna make me half as much in a year as what I make in three months."
"You know I can't tell you that, because one doesn't exist," Maura replies. "Well, at least not one that doesn't reside in Silicon Valley."
"Yeah. And I mean, look at Jane - she rakes in millions and she's a community college grad," Colin says, meaning to be breezy, but he falters on millions and his voice breaks.
Maura looks around, and then looks at him. "You can air Doyle business out, Colin, but keep Rizzoli business, my family business, to yourself," she commands.
He nods, knowing he's crossed a line. "Sorry," he says. Then, after a moment of silence, "how is Jane? Haven't seen her in awhile. Still workin' that building venture with Dad?"
"She's good," Maura answers. "And yes, they are."
"Glad to hear it. And the two of you, you're good?"
"What do you mean? Marriage-wise?" Maura asks. She raises a brow because Colin doesn't inquire after her love life.
"Well yeah, marriage-wise, family-wise, all of that," Colin says. They've picked up the pace, and he has started to pant.
Maura notices how it hides the nerves in his voice. "Things on that front are wonderful. Why do you ask?"
"Just want to make sure you're good. Can't I ask how you're doing?" Colin starts defensively. When Maura stares at him, confused, he backs down. "Dad's been telling me that things are heating up over at the bureau. You guys feeling it, too?"
"No," Maura says. She doesn't tell Colin about Nina, and the extra-layer of protection that an ally on the inside gives them, because Nina has her hands full diverting attention from just one family. She doesn't need the added burden of the Irish, too. "I haven't heard anything. Have you?"
"No," Colin shakes his head. "Luckily, I've been laying low and nothing's coming my way," he says. "I'm glad to hear you guys are doing alright, too." He speeds up even more, and then turns back to Maura. "C'mon, let's go. We got about six more miles to get in."
Maura dashes to catch up with him, and it takes all her lung capacity to do so, so she doesn't respond. Something tells her that this is the way Colin wants it.
Jane sits at a booth at Dan's on Third at about nine in the morning and pours a generous helping of syrup straight onto a short stack of pancakes. She always orders them on their own plate for this reason: she doesn't like the butter and the sweet, maple-tasting liquid to touch her eggs and bacon. Today, she has splurged and ordered the hashbrowns, too. Once she puts the canister back in its carrier on the table, she smiles indulgently at her two breakfasts in one.
"I want you to tell me that you've ordered that to split with someone," a voice says from above - someone is standing next to her while she sits. "But then that would mean you're splitting it with someone and I'd feel jealous."
Jane looks up and sees Maura there, in her running gear and still with a sheen of dainty sweat on her skin. "H-hey!" she greets, shooting up from her seat to kiss her hello.
Maura hums into it, and it sparks a sweet pang between her legs - the way Jane is clean cut this morning in black slacks and a white button-up, and the way she, in contrast, is perspiring and a little disheveled. "Mmm. Hi," she says. Jane moves aside so that she can slide into the same side of the booth.
Jane waits for Maura to settle and put her purse between her body and the wall, and then sits next to her. "So what're ya doin' all the way in South Boston?" She cuts her pancake stack in half with her butterknife, and in an instant, she no longer cares about her contaminated food: she shovels half of them onto her savory plate, pushing eggs and potatoes aside to make room, and then she puts one of those over-easy eggs and a slice of bacon on the now considerably less-burdened pancake plate. She pushes that plate to Maura without any hashbrowns, knowing without asking that Maura wouldn't want two types of carbs.
Maura watches Jane abandon her comfort zones and half of her food, and her brain floods with happiness hormones in response. "Well, I finished my run with Colin, and he wanted a ride. And with how early you were out the door this morning, I took a gamble that you might be here."
"Hmm, Maura Doyle gambling? It's gotta be a cold day in hell today," Jane teases around a mouthful of fluffy pancake. Maura waits for Jane to hand her the one fork between them so that she can poke her with it. "Ow!" Jane exclaims.
"That's not my name," Maura says just before she takes a triple-tier bite into her mouth. She likes the richness of egg yolk on her sweet pancake, all of it cut by the tangy salt of the bacon. In that way, they are opposites. "Flag down a place setting for me, please."
"Sorry, Dr. Rizzoli," Jane mumbles, and makes eye contact with the waitress behind the counter. She points to Maura, and the waitress brandishes a set of utensils before Jane can even wave her over.
"Here you go, Jane," the young woman says. She is flustered by the work rush, but still has time to give Jane a sweet smile before she leaves.
Maura takes the setting and unwraps it, handing Jane back her fork. "È Jenna?" she questions.
Jane coughs. "You kiddin' me? Jenna hasn't worked here in like fifteen years. I never saw her after I got back from Missina," she answers honestly.
Maura gives her a haughty little hmm. "So you've decided to corrupt the new generation of wait staff, then."
"You really gonna accuse me of sleeping with the waitress when I just gave you half my breakfast? Really?" says Jane.
"And when you pick up the tab," Maura tells her, grabbing her chin and smooching her cheek loudly.
"Yeah yeah," grumbles Jane. "I got you."
"I know," Maura asserts, "that's why I married you."
"I pick up all the tabs?"
"Mmhmm. And my end of the bargain is I facilitate the earning that ensures all the tabs can be paid."
"Can't argue with that," Jane chuckles, and it booms in her chest more than her throat. "So, how is Colin?"
Maura puts her fork and knife down. "Actually, that's partly why I came to see you," she says. She wipes her mouth with her napkin and turns toward Jane.
"You mean it wasn't for the free food?" Jane jokes.
"No. My brother… he seemed, I don't know, off today," Maura tells her.
"Off? Like how?"
"Like he was… fidgety."
"You seen your brother? He's always fidgety."
"When he sits, yes. But this was strange. He was fidgeting when we were jogging, moving around. And when we first met up, he had this dark look on his face. Like he was sad, or conflicted."
"Or guilty?"
"I mean, possibly guilt, yes. But he kept asking me how business was going for us. And then he asked me if the bureau had been putting pressure on us," Maura quiets her voice so that only Jane can hear.
Jane sips her coffee so she can buy a second to think. She gulps slowly, pulls her lips back in a satisfied grimace at the heat, and then drapes her arm over the back of the booth. Her left hand still wraps around her mug. "Are they pressuring him?"
Maura resumes eating. "That's just it. He said things are good for him, and that maybe our father is experiencing a little more, but, nothing to worry about. It's almost like…"
"He was fishing. For somethin'," says Jane. She sips again. "You think it has anything to do with what Gio told you last night? 'Bout there possibly bein' a rat?"
Maura equivocates, thinks. "I'm not sure. Giovanni seemed pretty convinced that the person who was talking, if they exist, was in the Italian ranks. So how would that affect the Irish? You're practically my father's business partner, and even you don't know much about his business dealings. How much do you know about Colin's?"
"Absolutely nothin'," Jane answers honestly. "I guess you're right. So, let's chalk it up to indigestion and keep an eye on him." Maura licks her lips before she gives the affirmative, so Jane scoots a little closer. "You a'right?"
Maura turns so that they can kiss again. It's light, short, and tastes like maple syrup. She steals another. "Yes. Thank you," she says. "It's just unsettling, to not know what he's thinking."
Jane shrugs and then brings her arm back down so she can keep eating. "Colin's a good guy, baby. Whatever it is, if it's anything, he'll come around, let us know what he needs us to know."