Jane rode the elevator up to the bull pen, words in Maura's voice tumbled over her mind like a hamster on a wheel, trapped in a cage. She sat in her chair as she gave Frost the report and crooked one knee up foot resting on the desk while the other leg bounced quickly, nervously as the heel of her foot tapped against the tiles.
I dream about you, Maura said. Jane held her hands together and rubbed her scars. After all this time, they were still healing. She wouldn't tell anyone, but she sat at the piano in her apartment, and tried to do her scales since her rehab on her hands was complete. She wanted that part of her life back. Maura asked many times if Jane would play for her, and all the detective would reply with was a whispered someday.
She rubbed her hands in thought, in pain, and in nervousness or anxiety. Today, that very moment, it seemed to be all the above. It was going to rain later, so they ached. She was forever a human barometer because of Hoyt plunging those damn scalpels through her hands. Her thoughts though, ran far from Hoyt and his torture. They ran to a cinnamon blonde-haired woman, who, if she were honest with herself, stole her heart ages ago. But Jane Rizzoli was never honest with herself, not with matters of the heart. She would be a shoulder for everyone else to cry on, she would shoulder the world's problems, and pain, but she would never ask for help herself. She would never admit she needed help, even if it was help deciphering the mind and heart of Maura Isles.
Jane ran her long fingers across her forehead and through her hairline at her temple, then sighed. Maybe Maura was dreaming about the dead guy on her autopsy table, Jane reasoned with herself.
"Jane," Frost spoke from his computer pulling her thoughts from her best friend, "I found a hit on the vic down in the morgue. Caro Riva, 31, and is on a work visa in the country," Jane watched Frost click the mouse and type in a few keys and his eyebrows shot into the air, with a shrug, "He is here for on a visa for the Boston Ballet Company."
Jane was out of her seat and looked at his monitor. Ballet? So, he was a dancer? Stage hand? Manager? Sports medicine? Costume Designer? Set Director, or designer? Jane sighed and looked to the ceiling with her hands on her hips and shifted back and forth. Jane then pinched her nose right between her eyes and squinted her eyes.
"Frost can you get me every public record of who works there or is associated with BBC?" Jane turned, "Korsak, can you please hit up your contacts in immigration regarding visa's on this guy? I want to know where he came from, what to know if there are other countries he had been in, hell I want his mother's father's mother's maiden name," she turned back to the screen, "Someone wanted this guy's dead," she mumbled and then she turned to the elevators.
"Where are you going?" Frost asked as he punched on the keyboard.
"I want to know what killed our guy? Want to come?" Jane teased, and Frost made a face, and shook his face. Korsak simply chuckled at his young friend, shaking his head, then picked up his phone.
Jane clenched her jaw, took deep breaths, and then leaned against the elevator, her hands on each side of the elevator doors stretching out her long frame and then the door dinged and began to open.
WHAM!
Jane Rizzoli only saw a flash of strawberry blond as a body crashed into her own sending her flying into the back of the elevator wall where her back took the brunt of the impact, but her head snapped back and hit the metal wall. She dropped to a crouch grasping her head in her hands. Eyes watered, more from the shock than the pain, but there was a piercing flash behind her eyelids when she touched a specific spot, and as she sat there, she felt the knot grow on the point of impact. Hands covered hers and fumbled over her scalp. She hissed and pulled away looking up and found eyes she adored. They were never the same color. Sometimes light brown with flecks of deeper brown, and green, but today there seemed to be a small bit of gold in them, maybe in the gold of Maura's blouse that highlighted her irises. She shook her head but winced.
"God, Maura, where is the fire?" Jane asked as they began to stand in the elevator with Maura's support. Then Maura turned and hit the basement button again. Jane didn't realize the doors closed, and when she blinked her eyes and made them focus around her, she didn't realize how close Maura was. Jane leaned to the left, but Maura's hand shot out.
"Jane, please be still. If you move, you might fall. Are you alright, you seemed to be swaying on your feet?" Maura's voice was like peanut butter on a strawberry jam sandwich… perfect. Jane closed her eyes and placed a hand on Maura's shoulder showing her friend she was ok, and she was not hurt, too badly, and her presences was welcome. In essence Jane was showing Maura she wasn't pushing her away. Maura nodded, and then turned as the doors opened and never let go of Jane. She sat the detective in a rolling chair near a table and turned on the light.
Jane winced as Maura pulled this way and that on her scalp, and poked, and prodded the lump on her skull. Then Maura placed her hands, fingers played about her head and neck.
"Tilt your head forward," Maua directed, "Now backward," Jane followed directions and turned her head from side to side, and then Maura's hands left her head. It was then that she saw Maura's hands. Small amounts of red had colored the doctor's fingers. Then before Jane could ask, Maura walked to the sink and scrubbed off her hands. Jane reached up and felt the area and then brought her fingers back. Red.
"Please do not touch the wound Jane. Oddly enough you do not need stitches, it's a small cut, but it is still a head wound, and you need to make sure you are awake for," Maura looked at her watch, "10 hours," Maura sighed and then walked over to her office and brought out another chair and sat next to Jane.
"I found something," then both spoke at the same time. Jane and Maura smiled at one another. Both hearts skipping a beat, at the mirrored action, and then Jane motioned for Maura to go first.
"He had died from respiratory paralysis," Maura raised her hand asking Jane to give her one more moment, "By poisoning," once more she raised her hand as Jane made to badger her about the how, "From Nerium oleander."
Maura watched as Jane's mind worked. She never had gone to collage the traditional way she had, but her mind was positively brilliant. It was one of the many reasons she was attracted to Jane, one of the many reasons why she loved Jane. Yes, she can admit that to herself, but she was still working out how deep that love goes.
"Maura, how do you know it was Oleander? We don't usually have Oleander in Massachusetts, right?" Jane asked as her brow furrowed. Maura nodded with a small smile.
"Hey Maura, are we ok?" Jane asked looking away from Maura. The question, completely from nowhere, caused Maura to pull back unaware of how to respond, what to do. Maura then walked over to her computer and pulled sites on the Greater Boston Area that have recorded Oleander sites. She heard Jane roll the chair over to her and then tapped on the base of her own chair with her booted toes.
"The guy was here on visa, and worked for BBC," Jane said once again stroking her scars, massaging out the stress and anxiety of the situation. Maura caught the movement, and she looked up at Jane.
"Do they hurt?" Maura asked concerned, medical doctor mode kicked in. Jane clenched her hands into fists, then shook them out. She shrugged and then looked at the computer. Most of the places were along the coasts.
"Can you tell me where those small pockets of hits are?" Jane asked as she pointed to a cluster.
"Jane, you didn't answer me," Maura said but went clicking away. Jane smiled sadly as she sat back and watched her friend. Maura knew Jane well as she printed off the addresses and occupants and owners of the land and homes nearby. Maura finally looked back when she was finished, eyebrow raised in challenge. Jane squinted her eyes and she relaxed back into the rolling chair. She knew this Maura. She knew the fiery Medical examiner who wanted answers to questions, empirical evidence, and proof to stone cold facts. Jane stood as she saw the doctor glare her down challenging Jane to back down. This time, just this once, she would let Dr. Isles win this battle of wills.
"You never answered my questions either Maura," Jane replied and then placed a hand to her friend's shoulder, gently squeezed, and then walked from her to the doors of the Morgue.
"I can't answer your question," Maura blurted out. Jane turned around and saw the panic in her eyes, the rigid nature of her posture. Jane turned fully to the room and stood, waiting, giving Maura time.
"I can't answer your question, because I don't know how," Maura confessed still sitting in her chair, but her hands clenched. Jane went back to her chair and took Maura's hands in her own larger ones.
"As long as we can talk it out, and have each other's backs, everything will be ok," Jane said as she. She saw the thoughts fly across Maura's face, she just didn't know what they meant. She was plagued, and Jane swallowed and shook Maura's hand.
"I heard you earlier," Jane whispered then saw realization dawn on Maura's face, and then color her cheeks and neck. Maura slid her hand from Jane's, cleared her throat, and tried to brush invisible lint off her skirt.
"What did you hear?" Maura asked trying to sound casual.
"You dream about me," Jane spoke between them. To Maura it was like dropping a bomb. It devastated some part of her, but another part of her wondered how Jane felt, how she thought, would she push Maura away. Maura only nodded. Jane took a deep breath and exhaled. It seemed the hard part was over… Until…
"Do you want to talk about it?" Jane asked.
"No."
It was short simple and sharp. No, in Maura's tone was like cutting the conversation short like a blade would cut through paper.
"Oh, ok, I'm sorry," Jane said back peddling. It was like a role reversal. She was supposed to be the non-talker and you must try to pry sentences from her with pliers, but not this time. Maura had closed off faster than Jane did when Frankie talked about her first dates. NOPE! Don't go there.
"Jane," Maura whispered and then took Jane's hand. Jane closed her fingers around Maura's and squeezed.
"I'm here," Jane supplied. Maura let a breath push past her lungs. She leaned forward, and Jane took her friends shoulders in her arms. When Maura seemed to melt into her Jane knew for a fact that this was not over, but it might take time. Jane would wait for her friend to figure it out, and knowing Maura, it won't take long.