Jane Rizzoli: A Case Study
Part One: Observations
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Summary: Maura's not a guesser. So, when she comes up with a theory as to her best friend's recent change in behavior, she sets out to test her hypothesis the only way she knows how: careful observation and experimentation.
Warnings: The following fic is rated M (NC-17) for language and sexual situations. Readers be warned.
A/N: I know there have been stories along the same vein as this, but I could not get this idea out of my head. Hopefully you find it original and entertaining.
Doctor Maura Isles is a scientist. She relies on the consistency of scientific methodologies to not only complete her work, but also to piece together the complicated interactions that compose her life. There is not a day that passes that Maura has not benefited from the cool, collected logic of science.
But, as of yet, there has not been a reasonable explanation for one Detective Jane Rizzoli. Of course, her existence in and of itself, Maura realizes, is a feat of evolutionary genetics. Her dark, wild hair and tanned skin are a result of her Italian heritage. Her long legs, muscular features, and slim figure are a result not only of natural selection, but of her ancestral lineage and a—sometimes tenuous—commitment to yoga, jogging, and basketball.
Maura can also understand the logic behind many of Jane's personality traits. Jane is strong-willed and stubborn out of necessity—she, like Maura, is a woman in a man's world. Jane must appear robust not only to her colleagues, but also to the inevitably dangerous individuals she encounters on a near daily basis. And while her quick-wittedness and cleverness are inherent talents, Jane has fine-tuned these skills as valuable assets for her detective work.
What Maura can't seem to explain are some of Jane's softer traits. How, in the face of such violence—most especially targeted, personal violence—the brunette can be so unwaveringly supportive and sweetly compassionate. How she can forcefully interrogate a brutal suspect one minute and gently console a terrorized victim the next.
The seeming dissonance in her best friend's personality traits are exactly why Maura frequently thinks—as she has told the detective herself—that Jane is the most deceptively complex person that she has ever encountered. No one in her near forty years has even come close to puzzling Maura's scientific mind as Jane does on a daily basis. And after many years of confusion, Maura had all but given up on figuring her out.
Until, one day, quite out of the blue, Maura made an observation. And, like many scientific inquiries, that observation led to questions. Questions Maura had not yet thought to ask.
What Maura initially observed was not really out of the ordinary—at least she thought so until Jane's mother, Angela, made an offhand comment. The three women were in the kitchen cleaning up after Sunday dinner. Tommy was asleep in the couch, beer still in hand and the game playing unwatched. Frankie had left some time ago, given that the had an early shift in the morning. Angela was wrapping up the leftovers from the night's meal while Jane and Maura were working on the dishes—which Maura insisted must be washed prior to being placed in the dishwasher.
The two were standing elbow to elbow. Jane was busy humming some tune from a commercial, which she had already complained she couldn't get out of her head, and Maura was rinsing the dishes Jane scrubbed and peering over at her friend curiously. Maura did not know that Jane had noticed her looking until the brunette winked at her with her characteristic dimpled smile. Still, neither spoke.
Instead, Angela made a quiet observation as she watched the two of them fondly, "You know, she never used to do that until you came along."
"Do what?" both younger women said at once.
Jane chuckled and elbowed Maura playfully.
Maura smiled, blushing lightly.
Angela shrugged, "Help out. Do chores. You know."
"I did too," Jane grumbled, rolling her eyes and turning a cold shoulder to her mother.
"Not without incessant whining!" Angela laughed, closing the fridge and turning to the kitchen island. She smiled at Maura, who was laughing at Jane exaggeratedly rolling her eyes again. The older woman was quiet a moment before she added, "You know … ever since you came along Maura, I don't think she's gotten away with anything nefarious."
"Right," Jane grumbled, passing Maura a pan to rinse. "I've been a perfect little angel."
Maura grinned, stifling a laugh at Jane's mocking face.
"I mean it, Maura," Angela insisted, looking at the two of them while leaning against the kitchen island, "you've got her wrapped around your finger. It used to be you couldn't rely on Jane to even show up for Sunday dinner. Now you have her coming over all the time, helping out around the house—all without a pouty lip."
"Oh," Maura smiled, winking at Jane, "she does plenty of pouting."
Jane blushed lightly at this remark and looked away.
"You know what I mean…" Angela said, waving dismissively. "She might play like she hates it all, but we all know she'll do anything for you."
Maura and Jane glanced at each other briefly. There was a strange, fearful look in Jane's eyes, almost as if her mother had revealed a dangerous secret. But the brunette turned too quickly for Maura to be certain of Jane's thoughts. Instead, Jane looked at her mother indignantly.
"Just what is it you're getting at, Ma?" Jane said irritably.
"Nothing," Angela shrugged innocently, "just that it's nice. She's good for you, Jane."
Jane frowned at her mother suspiciously, "What do you mean by that?"
"Never mind," Angela said, throwing up her hands, and turning to leave. "Heaven forbid a mother try to give her daughter a compliment. I'm going to bed. 'Night girls."
"Good night, Angela," Maura called after her.
"That was supposed to be a compliment?" Jane frowned, turning back to the dishes in the sink.
"I suppose …" Maura replied absentmindedly. She distractedly rinsed the plate several times as she contemplated what Angela could possibly have meant by 'she's good for you.'
After a few moments, Jane elbowed her curiously, "Where's your head at?"
"Huh?" Maura said, suddenly realizing the plate was more than ready to go into the dishwasher. "Oh, sorry! I was just thinking."
"Yeah," Jane chuckled, "I figured. That's why I asked."
Maura frowned, "What do you think she meant?"
"Meant by what?"
"'She's good for you.' What do you think she meant by that?"
"I dunno," Jane said, looking away again, her cheeks a bit pink, "You know… probably that you're a good influence on me. That you're a good friend."
"I am a good friend."
"And so humble."
Maura laughed, taking the last dish from Jane. After a moment's hesitation, she asked, "That's all she meant, right?"
Jane's brow furrowed, "Yeah, of course. What else could she mean?"
The honey blond considered her for a moment. Jane blushed again, looking away. She busied herself with drying her hands on a dish towel. When she finished and Maura still hadn't responded, she turned around to lean back on the counter, fidgeting with her hands awkwardly.
"I don't know…" Maura said at last. "It's just something people usually say about two people in a romantic relationship."
"We're not in a romantic relationship." Jane replied quickly, her eyes on her hands.
"I know," Maura said casually.
There was a long, awkward silence. An unacknowledged tension filled the room. Maura frowned curiously. She wondered for a moment why the topic made Jane so uncomfortable. It wasn't like such a thing hadn't been suggested before by their colleagues—all in jest of course. Perhaps it was different this time because the observation had been made by Jane's mother. Did that make it a bit too personal? Too real?
"Anyway…" Jane finally said. "I should get going."
"It's late," Maura responded, touching Jane's arm. "You can stay in the guest room if you'd like."
Jane's face flushed and she stared at Maura's hand on her arm. Maura hadn't even noticed she'd reached for her until Jane's eyes locked on her innocent touch. Slowly, apologetically, she pulled back, giving Jane space.
"No," Jane said, crossing her arms, "I should get home..."
"Okay …" Maura said softly, almost as a whisper.
"Well," Jane said, lingering awkwardly. This was the point were Jane would normally give Maura a quick hug goodbye. Instead, she waivered in place, looking indecisive.
Maura dared not move, so she simply said, "Goodnight Jane."
"Goodnight," Jane said quickly, practically sprinting out the door.
The brunette left Maura in the kitchen with her thoughts. Troubling thoughts. For all Maura's logic and reason, she couldn't determine why Jane had left so awkwardly and so suddenly. Nothing about what Maura or Angela had said was rude or malicious.
But Jane was clearly upset about something. Why else would she leave so quickly? And so late? Normally, Jane would jump at the chance to stay over. She practically lived in Maura's Beacon Hill home. Her apartment was almost like an afterthought. She often complained about having to spend the night plagued by the sounds of traffic and noisy neighbors.
So, what was Jane upset about? What was different?
"She has been acting kind of strange lately," she observed aloud as she set down a plate of fruits and veggies for Bass to snack on, "but I haven't been able to determine why."
Maura mused on Jane's recent change in behavior as she readied herself for bed. She couldn't recall a specific instance where it started, but she felt Jane's behavior had started to shift a couple months ago. Maura started to notice Jane watching her when the brunette didn't think she was looking. Instead of asking about it outright, Maura had decided to give Jane the opportunity to voice her thoughts when she was ready.
But Jane never spoke her troubled thoughts. Instead, the honey blond noticed that Jane's looks lingered longer and longer. It got to the point where Maura had to turn and look at her inquisitively before she would look away. And when she did, a blush would spread over her cheeks.
Maura had not even gotten a good idea of Jane's expression until one day she caught a glimpse of it in the mirror. Maura had talking to her about staying the night while she herself got ready for bed. Jane had been looking down at Maura almost anxiously as Maura looked at Jane's reflection. The brunette looked troubled, almost as if she wanted to ask a question, but couldn't form the words.
Maura had turned to her and asked, "Is everything alright, Jane?"
"Yeah," Jane had shrugged, "of course. Why?"
"I'm not sure…" Maura had responded, "you just seem … worried."
The honey blond had noticed Jane's cheeks turn slightly pink when she replied, "No, just tired. Anyway, yeah, I'll stay in the guest room. Goodnight, Maura."
With that she had leaned into hug Maura, but because Maura had not yet turned, Jane ended up with her face in Maura's hair, her mouth near her cheek. For only a second, she lingered there, almost as if she was going to place a gentle kiss there. And when Jane quickly pulled away, Maura could feel a soft pang in her chest as Jane's lips pulled away.
It was just this interaction that Maura was considering when she made the final observation that would lead to her scientific inquiry. As of late, Jane's behavior seemed to demonstrate not a reluctance to engage in physical contact and intimate gestures—quite to the contrary, she seemed to be initiating these herself more often than before—but a reluctance to disengage alongside a hesitance to continue.
But why?
This was precisely the question Maura set out to answer the only way she knew how: the scientific method.
Maura had already completed the first step. She had made an observation: Jane seemed increasingly bashful around the honey blond when it came to physical touch. She also seemed particularly sensitive when the topic of relationships came up. This included that evening's incident, but also a few times before.
The other day, Jane had been especially bothered by Maura's talk about a date she had recently been on. Maura couldn't know for sure if Jane's behavior indicated jealousy, but her eye rolling and grumpy attitude had been more intense than Maura remembered from times in the past. And Jane was quick to change the subject instead of tolerating a bit of the details like she used to do.
"She really has no reason to be jealous…" Maura sighed to herself as she lay down to bed.
And, of course, it was true. Though Maura went on several dates in the past four months, they had gotten no further than dinner and, in once instance, a goodnight kiss. And though Maura normally wouldn't pass up a chance for pleasant casual sex with a handsome date, she had not done so in nearly a year.
It took Maura little time to determine why. Unlike Jane, Maura prided herself in her careful observation of her sexual desires. It had taken Maura little time to determine Jane would make an excellent romantic partner. She was physically fit, beautiful, intelligent, dashing, protective, and compassionate. And Maura had picked up on this years ago, before they even became friends.
But she put those thoughts aside when they became close. It was clear that Jane was not interested in her, or any women for that matter. So, Maura had concentrated on building their friendship. She grew closer to Jane than she ever had to anyone else. No one filled her life with so much meaning and joy. No one baffled her while simultaneously completing her like Jane did.
So, she buried her feelings and tried her best to move on. Still, no one compared to Jane Rizzoli. How could they? But the feelings resurfaced. She fought them reluctantly. She buried them again. And they bubbled back up. Back and forth Maura struggled for years.
Until she finally gave up. She stopped trying to burry the feelings and simply accepted the hard truth: she was in love with her best friend. And there was nothing she could do about it.
That is, until Jane's behavior started to change. And when it did, Maura could not help but think that maybe, deep down, Jane felt something for her too. The risk, however, was too great. If Maura asked Jane outright, if she admitted her feelings, only to have her heart broken, she knew her heart would not survive. She knew their friendship would not survive. Maura could never take back what she felt for Jane. Once she opened that box, she could never pack it away again.
So, Maura was stuck.
Until a thought popped into her head just as she was starting to drift off to sleep.
What if Jane is stuck too?
To be continued
