Jane Rizzoli: A Case Study
Part Eight: Experiment Four
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. Slow burn, fluff, eventual smut, some angst.
Warnings: The following fic is rated M (NC-17) for language and sexual situations. Readers be warned.
Later that night, Maura lie awake thinking about the night's events. She had noted her observations, but she could not determine how to interpret the results. Maura had been so certain that Jane was attracted to her—maybe not other women, but she seemed to demonstrate every sign when they were together. Now, it seemed like Jane was uncomfortable with even the idea that Maura had dated women before—that she'd be willing to in the future. She had intended to show Jane that her advances would not be rebuffed. Instead, it seemed that Jane had completely closed down.
Is she that uncomfortable with the idea? Maura sighed as she looked through her notes. Is she so closeted that she doesn't even recognize her own behavior?
A text alert sounded on her phone. Maura's anxiety eased a bit with Jane's message:
Sorry I left like that. I didn't want to talk with Ma around.
The honey blond considered Jane's meaning. She at least recognized that she left awkwardly, but why wouldn't she want to talk with Angela nearby? Was it the content of the conversation that made her uneasy? Did she think Angela would be judgmental? Jane's mother was a bit conservative and sometimes overbearing, but she wasn't unreasonable. And she loved her children very much—she loved Maura very much.
It took Maura nearly ten minutes before she could come up with a response that she felt comfortable sending. After multiple attempts, she finally decided on the simplest question.
Why not?
Jane did not respond for a long time—so long, in fact, that Maura had already turned out the light and closed her eyes, assuming Jane had fallen asleep.
It's hard to explain. We'll talk later, okay?
Maura didn't know how to respond except to say:
Okay.
The next morning, Maura had barely hung up her coat behind her desk when Jane came walking into her office. The brunette had an apologetic smile on her face and two cups of coffee in her hands. She offered one cautiously.
"Peace?" Jane smiled pleadingly.
"Peace?" Maura frowned, taking the cup willingly.
The uneasiness in Jane's expression lessened some. "I thought you might be upset at me. For last night."
"I have to admit," Maura said, approaching Jane cautiously, "I was confused."
"But you're not mad?" Jane frowned.
"No."
"Oh, I just thought … when you said 'okay' like that."
Maura shook her head, "Jane, you should know better than to take what I say as anything other than literal."
"True," Jane said, giving her a shy half smile, "but I didn't want you to think that I left because you told me that you were … uh…"
"Bisexual?" Maura offered.
Jane looked anxious, almost as if Maura had said a bad word. "Yeah…" Jane said with a gulp.
"And it doesn't bother you?" Maura asked, studying her carefully.
"No!" Jane said quickly. "Of course, not. I told you that."
"So, why were you uncomfortable talking about it with your mother around?" Maura said, truly perplexed.
"Well, um…" Jane shifted uncomfortably, she stared at her coffee cup instead of looking Maura in the eyes, "It's just that… she… well, I—"
"Doctor Isles?" Susie interjected, peeking into Maura's office.
Jane instantly stiffened, cheeks blushing.
Maura sighed, wishing they could just talk uninterrupted for a while. "Yes, Susie?"
"The DNA results are back." She said. She smiled at Jane, "Good morning, Detective. Oh! You'd probably be interested in the results too."
"Thanks, Susie," Maura nodded as she took the folder. She looked over the results. "She's right; they're a match. You should show these to Vincent."
Jane took the folder. She smiled weakly at her, "We'll talk later?"
Maura nodded, smiling back.
The honey blond did not get a chance to talk to Jane for the rest of the day. Since all her autopsies were finished and the paperwork filed, she had a bit of extra time in the afternoon. She probably should have been checking her emails or reviewing reports, but something was bothering her about what Jane had been trying to say that morning.
In fact, as she reviewed her notes, she was reminded that Jane seemed to be acting similarly to how she had the night before—and Friday night after they left the Robber. Maura couldn't know for sure, but she had a great deal of evidence that there was something Jane was trying to tell her—maybe even confess. Of course, without knowing for sure, she didn't want to act as if that was the reason behind Jane's behavior.
Thus, she had a decision to make. Either she could ask Jane outright, or she could wait to see if Jane ever got herself together and told her herself. But what is she so nervous about? Maura mused as she sat at her desk. Does she really have no idea about my interest? Can I be any less subtle?
Maura was stuck with a crisis of conscience. As Jane's best friend, she felt the need to tell her the truth. Hiding her feelings from Jane already felt like such a betrayal. But risking their friendship for her own happiness seemed selfish too.
Perhaps I should just give her the time she needs to figure it out? Maura sighed, but if she's struggling like I am? I wouldn't wish this on anyone.
Maura put her head in her hands and let out an agitated sigh. All this back and forth was driving her crazy. One minute she was nearly convinced Jane returned her feelings, then the next minute she was sure she had imagined everything. She wasn't sure how much more of this she could handle. And the worst part was that the one person she depended on in moments like this was the very person causing her anxiety.
The doctor gave up on completing anymore work for the day. Instead, she shut down her computer and packed her things. Saying goodbye to Susie, she left earlier than she had in nearly two weeks. As she stood waiting for the elevator, she stared at her phone, wondering if she should text Jane.
Maybe I should stop by upstairs? Maura thought as she got on the elevator. That was when her phone chimed. Jane's text answered the question for her.
I wanna talk but we're making an arrest. Probably won't get done til late. Talk tomorrow?
Maura exhaled with resignation. It seemed she would have to go another night without answers.
The solution to her dilemma came to her quite suddenly the next morning. She was sitting drinking coffee at the kitchen island when Angela came in to join her. It was Wednesday, so the older woman had the day off. As such, she typically joined Maura for breakfast before the doctor had to go into work.
As it happened, Maura was looking through her notebook when the eldest Rizzoli walked in. The honey blond closed the notebook, smiling at Angela warmly, "Good morning. How are you?"
"I'm fine dear," Angela said congenially as she took a mug from the cupboard. "How are you doing?"
Angela looked at the notebook as she poured herself some coffee. Curious, she asked, "Are you working on your book there?"
"Oh," she shook her head, "no. I haven't worked on that in weeks, actually. No, this is just some personal notes of mine."
And it was true. The notes were very personal, but Maura struggled to remain calm. She wasn't sure how much of the truth she could avoid if Angela started to ask questions.
"Huh," Angela said, sitting at the stool across from her. "So, is it a diary, or …?"
The honey blond nodded, "In a way, yes."
The older woman looked a bit suspicious. If anyone could read her like a book, it was Mrs. Rizzoli. She had a frustrating knack for squeezing the truth out of her. At least Jane knew when to ease off. Angela generally picked at her—or anyone—until she got what she wanted.
But Angela let it go—at least for the time being. Instead, she asked, "So, have you eaten yet?"
Maura shook her head.
"Alright," Angela smiled, "how about an omelet?"
"Yes, thank you."
As Angela started making breakfast, Maura considered the older woman. That was when Maura had her idea. The missing piece of the puzzle so-to-speak. If Jane was struggling with her feelings, perhaps that had to do with coming out to her mother. Perhaps, if Maura came out to Angela herself, Jane would hear about it. If Angela accepted Maura, then Jane might feel more comfortable coming out to her mother. Of course, the plan would backfire if Angela was as uncomfortable as Jane seemed be about the idea.
Maura studied Angela carefully as she weighed her options. She did care a great deal about what Angela thought of her, but she had no real evidence that Angela's response would be negative. In fact, she wasn't really sure how the topic had not come up already. Initially, she had worried about Angela questioning her intentions with her daughter when the two first became friends, and because Maura had decided not to pursue Jane, revealing that information—unless necessary—seemed ill-advised.
Maura felt a bit more comfortable with the idea of telling her now, after so many years. Angela was like a mother to her—in many ways more a mother to her than Constance. Still, there was the risk that Angela would be able to read in Maura's face what she had been trying to hide for several years. Ultimately, Maura decided to risk it—even if it were in an indirect way.
When Angela returned to the kitchen island with their breakfast, Maura took a deep breath and asked, "Angela?" The older woman smiled, looking at her expectantly. Nervously, Maura continued, "The topic has never really come up, but I … I wanted to ask you something …"
"Whatever it is, honey," Angela said, her tone sympathetic, "you don't need to be so worried. You look worried. Is everything okay?"
"Yes," Maura replied, "I'm fine. I just—I wondered how you felt about homosexuality—or bisexuality, really."
"Oh…" Angela said, sitting back, looking startled. "Well, I … I mean the church—I don't know if I agree—"
Maura's heart sank.
"No!" Angela said, reaching for her hand. "I didn't mean it like that! I mean … I've struggled to reconcile … things. But I don't hate gay people! I think they're as good as anybody. There's nothing wrong with them."
Maura sighed, relieved, at least for the moment.
Angela continued resolutely, "I know gay people. There are plenty of fine gay officers at the station—men and women. I don't have any reason to treat them any different than anybody else." Finally, she grew quiet. She frowned as she studied Maura's reaction. "I'm just curious; why do you ask?"
"Well," Maura sighed. This was what she was afraid of, what she had risked. She steeled herself against the instinct to dodge the question, but Angela interrupted her.
"Is this about Jane?"
Maura could feel the color leave her face. She felt dizzy. She couldn't speak.
"Did she—what do they call it, um… oh! Did she come out to you?"
"What?!" Maura blinked dazedly. She could feel palpitations in her chest. "No, did she come out to you?"
Angela frowned. "No …" she said, chewing her lip as if conflicted, "but I know she's been trying to tell me something. She's been acting so strange lately. And on Sunday she said she wanted to 'talk'—and you know she never does that voluntarily. But when I asked her about it later that night, she said to forget about it. She's been avoiding me ever since."
"Oh…" Maura barely breathed. Her brain was going haywire. This new evidence could totally change everything. She would have to reconsider her methods entirely.
Angela looked confused, "So … if this isn't about Jane, why do you want to know what I think?"
"Uh…" the honey blond was starting to panic; she needed to abort her plan, but how could she avoid the truth now? Finally, she squeaked out, "I was—curious."
It's technically true! Maura insisted internally. It's not really lying… Fuck!
"Maura, honey?!" Angela said, clearly concerned. "Are you okay?"
"I'm sorry." Maura scrambled out of her chair. She looked at the time on the microwave. "I should really be leaving for work. Thank you for breakfast!"
"Okay…" Angela said, watching her with confusion as she practically sprinted out of the kitchen.
To be continued
