Chapter 3
The family was finally gone, and the kitchen cleaned to Maura's exacting requirements, Jane bellyaching as usual, and making a show of putting precisely one teaspoon of bleach in precisely one quart of water for disinfecting. They settled on the sofa, Jane on her end, Maura the other, feet toward the middle, sharing a throw. Maura had selected a documentary on Netflix that she had actually watched before, because she wanted to be able to observe the detective now that it was just the two of them. She hadn't determined a proper approach to bring up Jane's driving by in the middle of the night. Too soft, and the detective would redirect it jokingly; too hard, Jane would run. After all, Jane wasn't the one bringing the subject to fore. Apparently, she was content with the status quo. But, Maura thought, the status quo had changed. Maura now knew about Jane's feelings—supposed feelings, she amended. The doctor intended to get confirmation tonight.
Starting the video, she faced the television slightly, but kept Jane in her peripheral vision. The detective was also shifted toward the screen, but her eyes were on the beer bottle in her hand. Raising it to her lips, she took a long drink. Maura quietly watched tv for several silent minutes, before picking up the remote and pausing the video. "Jane, I want to talk to you about something that happened last week," she began hesitantly, still unsure exactly what she was going to say.
Jane looked up from her bottle, glancing at the frozen image on the television, before turning her attention back to Maura. The blonde was subconsciously chewing on her bottom lip, an indication that she was nervous, and uncertain of how to approach a subject. Jane frowned, trying to figure out if she had done something wrong. For Maura to be uncomfortable broaching a subject usually meant that she was not sure of the social consequences. Setting her beer on the coffee table, Jane sat up further, and reached for Maura's hand. "What is it? Did I do something? I know I wasn't the best company while we were hunting for Carson. I didn't mean-"
"Stop, Jane," the doctor exclaimed, putting her free hand up, then patting the detective's hand over her own, and smiling in spite of herself at the detective's outburst. "You haven't done anything wrong. And I do know how you get on a case, especially a frustrating one…" She trailed off, still not certain how to phrase the next sentence. "It's just, well, I thought—" she broke off, shook her head, and reached for her wine. Taking a large swallow, Maura started again, "I – I saw you driving by my house about 2 o'clock the other night. You didn't stop. And I was wondering if you were okay?" The doctor felt that confirming the activity, rather than starting with the feelings behind it, was safer ground.
Rizzoli slumped back against the arm of the sofa. "Jesus, Maura!" She breathed, semi-relieved, but now uneasy where this conversation was leading. "You scared me for a second there…" she suddenly looked bashful, a blush rising to her cheeks, even as she attempted to bluster it off. "Sit me down, all comfy on the couch with one of your super-stimulating shows," the sarcasm was showing in her tone, "beer and wine, and you say you—" Jane put her hands up, first two fingers bending as if quotation marks, "—want to talk about me driving by your house?" She sighed, and reached for her beer again. Taking a long drink herself, stalling, Jane was trying to decide which tactic to choose: admit to her "rounds" or to make it a singular coincidence. Running her fingers through her dark mane, she opted for the latter. "I was following up on a lead on Carson in—" breaking off suddenly, to think of an appropriate location, "—off Ravenwild Road, which, of course, didn't pan out as you could guess—oh, sorry, you don't guess" she added with a smirk, "and I was heading home and realized that I wasn't too far from yours, so I drove by." Feeling more confident in her story, the detective continued, "Your house was dark, and since I thought you were asleep and not spying on me through the window, I went on home." Finishing her beer, she untucked her feet and rose from the couch. "End of story," she threw over her shoulder as she moved to the kitchen for another beer, and quickly changed the subject. "You need a refill?"
With a clinical eye, the ME viewed the detective's performance. And that is what Maura considered it, a performance. Jane was in full-deflect mode, making light of the situation and putting not only emotional distance between the two of them, but a physical one as well. Maura paused with the sudden realization that she knew Jane's behaviors, and vice versa, almost as intimately as she knew her own. Yes, they had been friends for years now, but the familiarity that each woman had with the other…. Mentally shaking her head, she forced her thoughts back to the detective's reply. The sarcasm and mock quotations were to embarrass the doctor into believing the question was nothing except Maura's active intellect going off on an irrational tangent. And normally, it would be enough to make the doctor backtrack and even apologize, but not tonight. Tonight was not a normal night. Maura was determined to get an answer to the real question of the evening: was Jane in love with her?
Jane came back to the living room, carrying both an opened beer and a fresh glass of wine for Maura. She set the glass down, and rearranged herself onto the sofa, and waved absently to the still paused show. "Are you gonna start that thing or do I have to look at whatever kind of bug that is frozen on screen all night?" She grinned her most impish smile at the doctor, trying to keep Maura's train of thought untracked. Jane really did not want to probe into the reasons behind her "rounds," nor any of the feelings that had surfaced so unexpectedly, and powerfully, over the past few months directed toward the doctor. Jane had always had the type of personality that kept her part of the popular crowd when she was in school, and her extroversion had definitely continued and assisted her as an adult and as a detective. Yes, she had coworkers that didn't like her, but they were almost universally because they didn't feel a woman should be a respected homicide detective. Even Darren Crowe, whom she had more verbal spats with than any other, had reluctantly admitted in his typical chauvinistic ways, that he didn't mind Jane, herself, but the fact that she was considered his equal. But Jane tended to keep people at an "arm's length" when dealing with emotions, even her past relationships and lovers were never allowed into the inner sanctum of Jane Rizzoli. So, while Jane had always had many casual and close friends over the course of her life, she had never had anyone as remotely close to her as Maura had become, not even her brother, Frankie. In fact, he was a distant second in terms of intimacy—ugh, why did she have to think of that term.
As they both wordlessly sipped on their drinks, each woman considered the other. Maura absently started the show again, allowing the Buprestis aurulenta to finally finish crossing the camera's view. She blatantly observed Jane: starting with her unruly hair, high forehead, and guarded, dark chocolate eyes… moving down to high cheekbones bordering the straight, thin nose. Briefly considering how many times Jane had come to her with a nasal fracture, she was impressed that the detective's facial features had not been permanently disfigured. She continued downward, as Jane took another sip of beer, to observe pink lips pursed around the bottle, and the contraction of her throat with each swallow. She could see the pulse beating strongly, then settled her vision on the faint scar just above the jugular on the left. Maura felt overwhelmed with emotion, recalling the events leading up to the injury that gave Jane that scar, subconsciously stroking the matching one on her own neck.
Jane watched as the doctor's eyes moved from the top of her head, to her eyes, nose, lips and throat. She could feel a faint blush building at the scrutiny, but she didn't fidget or distract Maura from her inspection. Time slowed as Jane considered her feeling for the woman before her. When had the doctor become so intertwined in her life? Jane knew she was falling in love with Maura, but she resisted. The detective was afraid that if their relationship changed, the very thing that made it so special would be lost—and she couldn't bear that. But as she stared at Maura, she could see the affection, admiration, and yes, love, in the doctor's gaze as she catalogued each feature. When the green eyes darkened over in anguish, and Jane saw Maura's fingers ghost over the slim scar on her own neck, the detective had to break the quiet. "Hey," she whispered softly, reaching once again for the ME's free hand, encouraging Maura to look up, "Hoyt will never hurt us again." The doctor smiled at Jane's immediate concern.
"I know," she acknowledged. "It's just a bad memory." But even as she spoke, the recollection still vivid in her mind, she realized that Jane had been defeated, was giving up, until Hoyt threatened the doctor. It was only then that Jane fought with renewed passion, head-butting the guard, and ripping Hoyt off her. Maura's eyes filled again, but this time in wonder, Jane had loved her even then.
The detective still held Maura's hand, as pain, distress, and then adoration flittered over Maura's countenance. "You saved me," the doctor breathed.
The moment was getting entirely too intense for the brunette beauty. Jane was uncomfortable, both in her own thoughts and under Maura's focused scrutiny. Shifting and shrugging, she tried on a smile that came out more a grimace, distracting with, "Well, yeah, duh, Maur! You are my best friend. If I let Hoyt kill you, I would have to break in a new one, and I have you trained already." She didn't stop the playful chuckle at her own absurdity—there would never be another to replace Maura Isles.
The doctor grinned in spite of herself, unable to resist frisky Jane, and retorted, "Yes, well, I have you fairly house-broken, also, detective, so it would be problematic for me to—as you put it—'train' a replacement." She stroked the back of Jane's hand, purposefully, before letting go and sitting more upright. She leaned forward and placed both the television remote and her wine glass on the coffee table. Catching the detective's eyes again, she pressed the conversation forward, "So, you drove by the other night because it was on your way home, but what about last week?"
~~~~~ Rizzoli & Isles ~~~~~