Something Old, Something New (Chapter 7 of ?)
Authors: roughian and foreverleyton
Fandom: Crossover: Rizzoli and Isles/Callie and Arizona
Rating: NC-17, overall. R, for this chapter. What, you wanted NC-17? It's Thanksgiving, guys, not Christmas! ;)
Summary: Callie and Arizona head to Boston for the wedding of Arizona's long time best friend. But Bean Town is not as receptive as they expected: Callie meets Arizona's favorite ex; Maura's got an itch Jane wants to scratch. Oh, and there's a murder, too.
A/N: Another apology for the crazy delay. Personal lives got in the way and we're hoping you are all still around. Sorry! We still love you guys!
While we're on the subject, ForeverLeyton would like to offer another apology: to any who are waiting for an update to my Thanksgiving fic, Guess Who's Coming to Dinner, it's coming. I promise. I may not make my self-imposed Thanksgiving deadline (serious pie baking interfered!) but it'll be soon.
Chapter 7 Summary: Jane discovers it's tough to keep secrets from cops and that makes her nervous, much to Maura's dismay. Meanwhile, the Whitestone case has stalled but Colonel Robbins may be able to help the investigation.
Jane sat at the breakfast bar, smirking at the cup of coffee in front of her. At first she wanted to wait for it to cool off, but she had long since abandoned that notion in favor of daydreaming. She felt like a giddy, 13-year-old boy who had just made out with his first girl. But damn, if the ME didn't make her feel that way.
The woman in question swept into the room, smiling at Jane as she daintily selected an I 3 BPD mug from the cabinet, fishing through the little box of store bought tea-bags Jane kept for her. Jane was used to looking the other way, pretending she wasn't staring at whatever perfect ensemble Maura was wearing but now she grinned toothily at the three piece suit of obvious silk before finally sipping from her lukewarm cup of coffee.
Maura wrinkled her nose after she'd set the small teakettle on the burner to boil. "I was hoping you hadn't drank that yet."
"What? What do you mean? It's 7:13 in the morning. I'm up, showered, and dressed instead of fighting with my alarm clock. I need the caffeine."
Maura walked over to Jane, her gait slow, but still sexy as she took the mug from the detective's hands and set it down on the breakfast bar. "II was just thinking in terms of morning kisses. And favorable flavors."
Jane snorted out a laugh. "Dr. Isles, I had no idea you were this cheesy."
Affronted, Maura took a step back, opening her mouth to protest but Jane tugged her back in to give her the morning kiss she wanted.
"Wasn't so bad, was it?" Jane winked.
Maura wiped at the corner of her mouth, smirking at the woman before her. "Not bad at all, but I'll need to try again to make my final decision."
Jane was delighted, and mildly surprised, by the outwardly affectionate nature of Maura, enjoying the way the demure doc settled herself between her knees and rested a hand on either thigh while she kissed her again, hands tangling in damp curls. The detective's hands slipped to the ME's waist, coasting along gorgeous curvature hiding beneath the suit's jacket, seeking the secrets her hands had only begun to learn. Had the teakettle not suddenly screamed for attention, who knows how far those hands would have gone.
With Maura dealing with her teakettle (and Jane unabashedly appreciating her firm ass and tight calves accentuated by some hoity-toity designer shoes) neither woman registered the ringing of their cell phones immediately. Jane caught the sound first, followed by Maura, and the pair gave their respective "Rizzoli" and "Isles" before giving each other a look that suggested their perfect morning bubble had just been burst by homicide.
"Murder-suicide in Langdon Park?" Maura asked, ending her call and lifting her tea mug in salute.
Jane nodded slowly. "Cheers?"
Jane felt ridiculous climbing into the Crown Victoria in her parking garage while Maura trudged across the street to her fancy hybrid, electric, whatever-the-hippies–were-calling-it car. They were coming from the same place, headed to the same spot. Would likely travel the exact same route. Jane was no environmentalist but two cars seemed inefficient.
She had suggested as much to Maura while they rode the elevator together but the doctor, ever hyper-logical, had calmly reminded Jane that they both had other cases, cases that did not involve the other. Cases that may require one or the other to have access to her own car. She was right, of course. Maura Isles was rarely wrong. But still Jane felt foolish. Annoyed. Pouty, though she'd never admit to such a girlish emotion.
She missed it had barely been fifteen minutes since she had seen her last.
Ridiculous.
Sighing, Jane pulled into a parking spot half a block from the crime scene, just far enough away to avoid the traffic that always seemed to surround domestic disputes. Moving towards the crowd, Jane spun on her heel when she heard a shout from behind her car.
"Hey, cop bitch! Ya ride's blockin' my shit."
"Shittin' on the street's not legal, pal. You wanna talk 'bout your bathroom habits at Central?" Jane sneered at the hot dog vendor whose cart was fixed immediately behind her (less than legal) parking spot.
"Man, come on. How people supposed to buy my wares when you got a cop car blocking my shit?"
Jane didn't have an answer so she fell back on her standard. Ducking under the yellow crime scene tape, she turned again and flipped her new friend the bird. Snorting, enjoying the interlude in her morning, Jane sneered at Detective Crowe. "Hey."
"You got a real way with community relations, Rizzoli."
"Yeah, I'm a regular civil servant." Jane pulled up her sunglasses and couldn't stop the involuntary grin she knew stretched across her face when she spotted Dr. Isles, slipping beneath the tape, careful to avoid messing her hair. She realized Crowe noticed her smile, too, when she heard his delighted laugh. An asshole like Crowe was only delighted when he found a way to screw someone else. "What?" She asked, already dreading the answer.
"Oh, nothing. Just I figured out why you're such a bitch."
Walking into it, Jane. "Oh?" Yep, glutton for punishment.
"Can't get someone with a real dick to get you off, can you? Playing with plastic now, Rizzoli?"
Jane couldn't help it. Her jaw dropped and she knew her eyes bugged hard enough to resemble a cartoon character just before he realized he was falling. When Maura stepped next to her, coyly brushing her fingertips over Jane's hand, Jane jumped like she'd been scalded. Crowe laughed, damn him, and Jane shoved him, hard. For the first time since they'd met, she ignored Maura when she called and stomped into the house.
Confused, the medical examiner glanced at the smirking detective, not needing her advanced deductive reasoning to realize that he'd royally pissed Jane off. Standing there, awkwardly glancing between Crowe and the house, Maura turned her head in time to see Frost quickly approaching, peeling sunglasses off of his face.
"What do we got?" he asked Crowe and Maura.
"Murder suicide. Messy as hell in there," Crowe grumbled. "Looks like the boyfriend killed the girlfriend with a steak knife. Slit her throat."
"Really? Any priors on the boyfriend?"
"Charges for petty theft and an aggravated assault charge that got lessened because of it being in self defense, but nothing like that. Girl musta pissed him off pretty bad to warrant that," Crowe cocked a half grin.
Maura, disgusted by the brash detective, sighed and pushed past the pair to make it into the house. The fetid smell of death crept into her nose. It was cloying at first, but soon she was used to the pungent aroma. "Jane?" she called.
"In here," Jane answered, standing in the doorway, staring at the mess in the living room. Her eyes swept the room: take out menus scattered on the coffee table; remote control settled on the edge of the couch; the Tuesday paper; an empty bowl that looked suspiciously like it had once housed ice cream.
It looked no different than any other living room in America. The blight that stained the middle of the otherwise normal scene made Jane's stomach turn.
"Oh," Maura murmured as she surveyed the scene; the body already pallid and stained with dried blood. "Detective Crowe mentioned he'd slit her throat."
Jane sighed, nodding as she knelt beside the woman's body. "She bled out. And the boyfriend's brains are all over the ceiling. CSRU should be here any second."
Maura glanced at Jane whose brows were knitted together as she stared in front of her. The detective wasn't looking at the body, wasn't inspecting the blood spray on the wall or dappling the curtains. She was staring absently, her eyes unfocused and bleak.
"Jane, are you okay? Would you like to step outside? You look a little pale. This is simple, I can handle it."
Jane stood up again, looking at Maura as a surge of something shot through her. Guilt? Passion? Anger? Love? She wasn't sure. But the weight of the stale air and the bloody everything suddenly seemed crushing. She had to get out of this room.
Without another word, she turned and marched outside. Taking in a harsh lungful of fresh air, Jane bent forward, her hands on her knees. The pavement swirled in front of her and she blinked rapidly in an attempt to maintain equilibrium. She would not pass out. Frost jogged over to her, sensing distress.
"Hey," he murmured. "You okay?" He didn't comment when Jane automatically shrugged off the hand he laid on her shoulder.
"Yeah, just..."
"Is it that bad in there, Rizzoli? As bad as the DiMarco massacre?" Frost gagged at the memory, barely recovering.
"Not even close. I—," Jane straightened, watching Crowe slap the shoulder of a Boston police officer. She squinted—Campbell, with Domestics. Another jerk.
Frost followed her gaze and narrowed his eyes. "Don't let Crowe get under your skin. It's a waste of a day," he continued. "Maura still in there?"
Jane flinched at the sound of the woman's name, instantly flagging Frost's intuition. "Oh," he nodded. "This about her?"
"Frost," Jane warned.
"Rizzoli, I know I'm young and I know you and Korsak like to bust my balls about... well, about everything. But I'm not an idiot. Far from it. Plus, I'm a detective. Got the badge and everything," he joked, flashing his badge at Jane. "I know what I saw when I walked in on you two. And I see the doc, I see how she looks at you. I see how you watch her."
"It's...complicated."
"I bet. You don't have to talk about it. And I'm sure as hell not about to spread it around BPD. These dudes are like hens. I don't even get it," he shook his head, laughing, which made Jane laugh too.
"Thanks, Frost," she clapped him on the shoulder, cop speak for gratitude.
"Don't mention it," he said, pulling out his notebook and flipping through. "So, dispatch said this was a murder-suicide. We need anything other than CSRU and a couple autopsies?"
Jane blinked, work pulling her back to earth and reality. She needed to get a grip. This was her job. "Yeah, that's about it. Looks pretty open and shut. Hey, any news on the Whitestone case?"
"Same old shit," Frost scratched the back of his head. "I feel like there's bank accounts comin' outta the wood work for this dude. And then they lead to nowhere."
Jane nodded, hearing the screeching brakes of CSRU's van behind her. She turned in time to see the familiar faces of McMiller and Farrior. "Well, then I'm gonna head back to the station and see if I can piece some of that same old shit together. Cool?"
"Yeah, I got it. Oh, and I'll let Maura know. I'm sure she's in the dead-body trance by now."
"Probably," she laughed lightly, glancing back at the house where she knew she had left the doctor a little confused. Dammit. "Tell her…Tell her I'll see her back at the shop?"
"Done."
Jane took the long way back to the station, tooling around Boston without paying attention to where she went. She felt on the cusp of something, something big. Maybe too big. She didn't like the disgruntled feeling that had settled in her gut. For a woman like her, one who chose a path and attacked it with purpose and determination, this tug of war she was playing with Maura was driving her crazy.
Realizing with a start that she was about to turn onto the Massachusetts Parkway, Jane slammed a frustrated hand against the steering wheel. She needed to pull it together. She needed to stop thinking about Crowe's comment and it's possible repercussions. Or how sexy Maura looked grinning over her cup of tea this morning. Or, dear God, how the hell she was supposed to tell her mother that she liked girls now. A girl. One girl. Son of a bitch. Flipping open her cell, she punched in the number she knew would distract her.
"Vincent Korsak, BPD."
"Anyone besides your mother call ya' Vincent?"
"My mother's dead, God rest her soul. And she called me Vinny."
"Aw, Vinny, that's so sweet."
"You calling for a reason, Janey, or just to talk ill about my departed mother?"
"I'm trying to find an angle on the Whitestone case but shit's dancing around my mind like you at Spinnelli's bachelor party after the tequila shots."
"Yeah, that was a good time," Vince reminisced fondly, rewarded when he heard Jane snort out a laugh.
"Uh huh, for you maybe. My eyes still haven't recovered. Anyway, I'm driving back, stuck in traffic. Figured you could run through the case with me, talk it out. Got anything new?"
"Couple things, but nothing's clicking."
"Like?"
"Well, Frosty's got accounts jumping all over his computer screen. I don't understand most of that but the damn thing keeps beeping every five minutes. It's got to be the money, Jane. That's the only thing that makes sense."
"I hear ya, and I like the money motive as much as every other poorly-paid public servant. But it's not getting us anywhere. We try to chase the money, we get more than a hundred suspects. How do we narrow it down?"
She could hear scratching through the speaker and knew instinctively Vince was tugging on his ear against the phone. "Maybe we don't narrow it down. Maybe we gotta, like, broaden it out."
"Broaden it out? Huh?"
"That Marine colonel, the one who punched Whitestone?"
"Colonel Robbins, yeah. Look, Vince, it's not him. My gut—"
"No, not saying it's him. I'm saying he called, right, said there's a will reading tonight? I think we wire him."
"You want to wire a-a grandfather for a will reading?"
"We don't have enough to get in otherwise. No judge'll give us permission with the shit we got."
"Ok. Maybe. But, Vince, why?"
"I reread the autopsy report. Money's a motive, I know it. But I don't think it's the only one. This guy was killed bad, Jane. Real bad. Ugly. That smells personal."
"Agreed, but personal takes us away from the money angle." Jane ran a firm palm over the back of her neck, working out the kinks annoyance created. "You're running in circles, Korsak."
"I don't think so, kid. Where do you get personal and money, all at the same time?"
"I…the will," Jane sighed, understanding. She unconsciously tapped out the beat to Mo Money, Mo Problems while she considered Vince's idea.
"Bingo. Vultures, Jane. They pick off what's left, right?"
"You tell me, Mr. Discovery Channel."
"They do. Whitestone, or rather his money, was as good as dead, right? A carcass. The SEC, they were gonna fry his sorry ass. This smells like a vulture killing to me. Trying to get what's left of the scraps."
"Kill out of rage, that's the personal. Angle your way into the will, that's the money. Good thinking, Vince. I'll call Arizo—ah, the Colonel, set it up. Give him an idea of the players."
"Tell him to sit by the wife, they're all vultures. I wanna see what she gets outta the bastard, how she feels about that."
"You still like her for this?"
"Maybe. Don't know. I know you don't. But the doc said the stab wounds came from so many angles that there was a possibility of more than one killer. So far, our best suspects are Carolyn and Nevins but they alibi each other out, right? So what if they both did it?"
"I thought of that Vince, but you're forgetting the kinky hotel sex with Romanoff, the third wheel in their three seater."
"I'm not. I'm thinking he's in on it too. Frost ran a search of his financials and get this—guy took out a third mortgage on his home, trying to hit it rich on the stock market. Three guesses where he put the money?"
"Whitestone."
"Ding, ding. Got it in one."
"Ok, so he's got motive too. You trying to tell me three people stabbed this guy in an alley outside a wedding?"
"It's not that crazy, Rizzoli. Maura says—"
And that was the last thing Jane heard. One mention of the ME's name and Jane's mind fogged completely. Like flipping a switch. Cursing at the images dancing in her brain, Jane slammed the steering wheel for the second time that day.
"Jane? Jane, you listening to me?"
"Shit, Vince. Sorry. I, ah, zoned out a minute."
"Uh huh. Happening a lot lately," he mused. "You got something going with the doc, Rizzoli?"he asked bluntly.
Jane sputtered, coughing into the phone at the unexpected and out-of-nowhere question. "What? Huh? Excuse me? What, ah, why?"
"Look, it's none of my business but lately someone says the doc's name and you go kinda spacey and...girly."
"Girly?" Jane demanded, offended.
"Yeah, you know. Like a teenager with a crush. Or somethin'. And I hear things—"
"You hanging out with the gossip girls these days, Korsak?" Jane knew her tone was harsher than the moment warranted but she couldn't help it. What had Korsak heard?
"I got ears, kid. Don't have to listen very hard to hear things. Look, I'm not sayin' there's something to say. I'm just saying, if there were something to say about...the doc and you and stuff I like it. I'm...on board. Or whatever."
Jane flipped her turn signal and made a sharp left onto Beeler Avenue, nearly plowing into the Ford Fusion in the other lane. "What? You sound crazy. Are you watching The L Word with Donna from booking again, Korsak? What'd I tell you about that?" she finished through her teeth.
"It's a quality program, Jane. Drama, romance, angst."
"I'm going to pretend you didn't just say that about television lesbians," Jane sighed. "And for your information, this isn't some pilot episode of two girls in love. Maura's... I respect her."
"Uh huh."
"She's really smart. Like, really. How many times has she helped us out on cases that seemed dead?" Jane urged, screeching to a halt as the yellow light she was rapidly approaching turned red.
"You don't have to defend the doc to me, Rizzoli. I'm just sayin', you got more than respect for Maura Isles," Korsak continued, determined to get an answer out of her.
"Well," Jane stopped, pulling in front of the station and killing the engine. Maybe she could talk to Korsak. He had trained her, looked out for her. Had her back. "I…we—"
"Shit, Jane, hang on, Frost's computer just went crazy. Lemme call you back."
So much for that.
Jane didn't wait to hang up the phone, tossing it into the front seat as she leaned her head against the steering wheel. Her eyes closed, the only thing she thought of was Maura. Great, Schoolgirl crush, indeed.
Colonel Robbins paced the length of his daughter's hotel room, shaking the rocks glass of scotch that Callie poured him from the mini bar. His face, usually stoic and hard to read, was furrowed in a scowl. Had Arizona been on the receiving end of said face, she might have felt a little bit more intimidated and a lot less frustrated. Or, at least, less willing to let her frustration show.
"Dad, you'll have to say something. Preferably before you wear a hole in the carpeting," Arizona said lightly, reaching over for Callie's hand and squeezing it some.
The brunette squeezed back, sipping from her own glass of scotch. There wasn't much they could do except eat overpriced room service and raid the mini bar. This was going to be one expensive "weekend getaway."
"I spoke with a detective with the Boston Police Department this morning," he began, sipping again. The scotch was cheap and burned a little, so he grimaced. "You know, I believe he said he was a Sergeant. Vincent, ah, Korsak? Regardless," he shrugged. "I informed him of the will reading and my invitation. Detective Rizzoli called me back this afternoon. She's asked me to attend, asked if I would permit her to set me up with a wire."
Callie nodded in encouragement, knowing that Daniel was lost in his own thoughts. Still she knew how much he would appreciate aiding the investigation. "Well, that might be helpful. To the case."
"Perhaps," he shrugged, downing a larger sip.
"Dad? Is that all?"
"Detective Rizzoli- Jane. She wanted to give me a run down, let me know what to be on the lookout for." When the girls nodded their understanding, he continued. "She told me Jason had a child that he… that he abandoned. One who was forced to withdraw from college to tend to her dying mother? What kind of monster abandons a child like that? If one cannot provide the necessary emotional support, how dare he not offer financial help?" he scowled even deeper. "Perhaps I never knew him at all," he murmured quietly.
Arizona realized Jason's continued betrayal had cut her father deeply, affecting him nearly as much as the news of this young girl's troubles.
Callie looked into her drink, thinking about her own child for a second. "That's terrible. I can't imagine."
"If I had known…If he had told me, once confided, I would have…he had to know I would have…well, I guess that's done."
"But it's not done, is it, Dad?" Arizona knew her father well. "You want to help her."
"I've got to see what that girl needs, Arizona. Offer her something. At least set her up with people that can help her financially, help her mother. The medical expenses alone!" he resumed pacing, shaking his head vigorously.
"Dad, take a deep breath. I'm sure that Jason's daughter would appreciate the help, but let's take it one step at a time. Do you expect her to attend tonight?"
This stopped Daniel, practically in his tracks. "I…I don't know," he admitted. "I hadn't considered the possibility. Do you think?"
Arizona shrugged. "Maybe. What time is the reading again?"
The Colonel checked his watch. "17:30, this evening. Approximately three hours from now."
Arizona grimaced again, wishing all of this would somehow just evaporate. "Did you agree to the wire?"
Daniel nodded. "Of course I did, Arizona. I've agreed to meet with Jane an hour before the reading so that she can outfit me." He chuckled softly. "Though this won't be my first wire, it will be the first at a will reading."
"You've worn a wire before?" Arizona asked curiously, instantly distracted.
Callie rolled her eyes at her wife and waved her question off. "Do you want us to come with you, Daniel?" She offered.
"No, no. This is best suited for me alone," the Colonel lifted his glass towards his daughter-in-law. "But thank you."
"Are you sure, Dad? We don't mind. Besides, we're cooped up in this room half the day, bored. It's a little frustrating," Arizona added.
Noting the sincerity in his daughter's eyes, Daniel glanced at his watch again. "It might be nice, actually. To have a familiar face nearby. Let me call Jane and make sure it's acceptable that the two of you join me. If she advises against it, I'm afraid it's out of my hands."
"Of course," Arizona agreed.
"Excuse me. I'm going to try her now. I'll just be a few moments," Daniel promised as he set his empty glass down on the table, moving towards the bedroom. "Yes, hi. Detective Rizzoli, please?"
His voice grew muffled as he closed the door, and Callie could barely make out if he was talking or if it was the hum of the icemaker in the hall. "A will reading, huh?"
Arizona sighed, shoulders slumping forward. "Not exactly vacation activity, I know. I don't want him to have to go alone. Especially after learning about Jason using Tim's name."
Callie scooted closer, setting her scotch on the end table next to the couch. She rubbed Arizona's back in soothing circles. "He appreciates it, I'm sure. You know he's going to search out this daughter. If we weren't there, he'd probably have him moving into your parents' home by the night's end."
"Maybe," Arizona laughed. "This whole thing has him disturbed. He's not normally a sucker but he needs to—"
"Fix things. I know," Callie interrupted. When Arizona nodded she shrugged, "I married a Robbins. I get it."
Arizona laughed and leaned into her wife. "True. He'll fix what he can, since he can't fix this."
"He will. But we'll be there, make sure he doesn't give away family farm before he learns this girl's name. If she's even there," Callie mused. "I don't really know who gets invited to these sorts of things. Have you ever been to one?"
"A will reading? No, never. Never knew anyone wealthy enough to warrant a reading. You?"
"Nope," Callie shook her head. "Torres money is new money," she joked. "But I used to watch Days of Our Lives and they had them all the time. Dramatic stuff. Might be interesting."
Arizona leaned back and arched one eyebrow at her wife. She is a constant surprise. "Days, Callie? Really?"
Callie didn't bother to look sheepish as she grinned. "Come on! You know you watched some crappy daytime tv during med school."
"Um, no. Some of us were studying," Arizona pointed out haughtily before, under her breath, she coughed, "General Hospital."
"I knew it!" Callie exclaimed triumphantly.
"Knew what?" Daniel asked, stepping back into the room.
Out of the corner of her eye, Callie caught Arizona's 'don't you dare' look. "Uh. Knew that... Arizona studied during med school instead of watching stories on tv."
"'Course she did," the Colonel puffed. "Daytime television is nothing but trash. Arizona knows that."
"Uh huh...I mean, yes, sir," Callie agreed, resisting the urge to roll her eyes when Arizona straightened smugly beside her. "Anyway, what did Detective McHottie say?"
"Detective McHottie?" Daniel drawled, his voice a perfect replica of his daughter's.
"Oh!" Now Callie did roll her eyes. Clearly Seattle Grace's annoying habit of nicknaming everyone was contagious. "Sorry. Jane. Detective Rizzoli. What did she say?"
Daniel shared a secret smile with his daughter, both amused by Callie's squirming. "Actually, Jane thought you both should attend. Felt it might appear strange if I didn't bring you, given your recent involvement in...everything."
"Good," Arizona nodded, rising to refill her father's drink. "That's settled. I wonder if Maura will be there," she mused.
"Missing your girlfriend?" Callie teased, winking at Arizona's father.
"Ha, ha. No, but I enjoy seeing Maura. Besides, watching she and Jane try to figure out this thing they've got going, it's fun."
"It is fun," Callie agreed. "Awkward, uncomfortable, nervous. I don't miss those days at all."
Returning to sit next to her wife, Arizona squeezed her knee and agreed, "Me either."
Maura sighed and took one last look at the pristine stack of paper work on her desk. It had been a trying several hours, made even more exhausting by the mountains of reports the murder-suicide required.
Cases had stopped giving her a nauseated twist in her stomach long ago, but this one seemed to reawaken those feelings. She chalked it up to Crowe's comments about the victim, instead of the blood bath. His suggestion that a young girl could do something to warrant such violence disgusted her.
The churning in her gut was certainly not related to Jane and any intuition that something was wrong with the detective, personally. No, Maura Isles didn't believe in intuition.
She laughed lightly at her own thoughts and closed another file, pushing out from her desk with the intent of making a cup of tea in the break room. As she glanced out into the main corridor of her office, she heard the brisk gait of her favorite homicide detective approaching. Smiling instinctively, Maura straightened her skirt and started walking toward the sound.
Expecting Jane to be as eager as she, the wind was abruptly taken out of Maura's sails when the stoic detective stopped a yard shy of the ME, holding out another file. "S'more on the case," she said as Maura took the file and began leafing through it.
Jane turned on her heels, starting to walk away. Maura furrowed her brows, closing the file and setting it atop an empty cabinet.
"Jane?" Maura asked, hurrying after her. "Are you alright?"
"Fine, Maura," Jane snipped, then sighed realizing her tone was harsh. "Sorry. Long day."
"It has been," Maura agreed, studying the furrowed lines of Jane's brow as she placed a hand on her shoulder.
Jane recoiled from the touch, feeling the surge of emotion hit her square in the chest. She wanted to buckle over, feeling similarly to the crime scene earlier.
"Hey," Maura said softly. "Come on, sit down. Have you eaten today?" The doctor asked, ushering Jane into a stiff plastic chair. "Or had enough water?"
"I ate, and had some coffee," Jane waved Maura off. Truth was she probably hadn't eaten, because when Jane was nervous she didn't eat. The gnawing anxiety in her gut masked any hunger.
"Would you like me to ask your mother to make you a smoothie in the cafe?" Maura asked as she doted, crouching down to look in Jane's eyes.
"No, stop!" Jane demanded again. "I'm fine. I don't need a damn smoothie!"
Maura reared her head backwards, standing up straight. "Okay."
Jane sighed and slumped backwards, rubbing a hand over her face. "This is just... Maura, I don't know what the hell I'm doin'."
"With the case, or—"
"With us. What is this?" Jane shook a little as she spoke, looking up into the eyes of the woman she knew she was hurting. She couldn't stop herself.
"It's us, Jane. It's always been us," Maura answered softly, eyeing the entryway in case one of the interns scurried by the door.
Jane's heart sloshed even more wildly. Always us. It might have been a comforting thought, but right now her panic was overriding anything else.
"What's us? I—" Jane breathed again, deeply. "I don't understand. Crowe, today... Crowe. I mean is that how it's going to be? The butt of everyone's jokes? The big 'ha-ha, Jane and Maura. Playing with plastics.'"
Maura's eyes widened. "Oh, Jane. He didn't?"
"He did, right before you got there. He figured it out. How? Do I give off a gay vibe?" Jane fretted.
Maura bit back a laugh at Jane's instinctive phobia of being labeled as the butchy stereotypical female cop. It was a label that had chased most of her career. "Gay vibe?" Maura asked. "I think you're graceful. Stunning. Womanly. Elegant—"
"This isn't the ballet, Maura! I'm serious!" Jane croaked.
Maura shook her head, casting one more glance toward the door as she leaned down to press a kiss to Jane's forehead. Pulling back some, she whispered, "So am I."
Jane sighed, grabbing Maura by her wrist and pulled her into her lap. She wanted to kiss her. Because everything else fell away when Maura kissed her.
Jane refused to let Crowe interfere here, and slipped into the comfortable rhythm of kissing Maura, hands settling on her back while the doctor's nimble fingers gripped at the collar of her shirt. Jane shivered at the feeling, pulling Maura closer. Something about Maura was comforting despite the fears metastasizing inside of her. Just not comforting enough.
Pushing on Maura's shoulders, Jane shook her head rapidly. "I can't. We can't. At work. No."
Maura slipped off of Jane's lap as quickly as she'd climbed into it. "At work may be inappropriate."
"It's not even that, Maur. Or, not only."
Maura busied herself shuffling instruments around her table. She could feel the strain on her ocular muscles that meant tears were threatening. She knew how much the Jane would hate that and how quickly crying would send her stalwart detective running even further away. "I'm sorry, Jane. I'm afraid I'm not completely following you. What do you mean 'or not only?'"
Jane sighed. No matter how hard the doctor tried to hide it, Jane knew the formality of speech and the barely-perceptible crack in Maura's voice meant she was on the verge of tears. Exactly what Jane had hoped to avoid.
"I don't know if I'm ready for...this," she gestured with her hand, encompassing the space between the two women.
"You've said that."
"Right." Jane dropped her head. "I can't...at work and..out—" she pointed behind her gesturing towards the door, "—out there. In the world. I can't be this in the world. Not yet. I'm not...I'm not there yet, Maura. I'm sorry."
Maura squeezed a hand around a skull key, hoping the pressure against her palm would alleviate the tension in her body. "Are you breaking—are you ending this?" Damn the quiver she couldn't control.
"No," Jane rushed to answer. Standing up, she took a step closer to Maura but didn't close the distance completely. "No. I'm not. God, I don't want to be. I hope I'm not. But can it be us, just us, for a while? Would that be ok?"
Gathering her courage, Maura finally lifted her gaze to meet the detective's. She searched Jane's eyes for a long while, wishing she were one of those people who could see more than retinas and irises. But she was an expert at the body's response to internal and external stimuli and watching Jane, she saw a woman teetering on an edge, unsure whether to resist the fall or take a leap. Maura decided to give her nudge.
"Yes," she breathed. "Yes, that's ok. This is new. And special, to me—"
"Me too," Jane hurriedly agreed.
"Good. We can be...private," she decided, deliberately avoiding the word 'secret.' "We can be, for now, whatever you need us to be." When Jane's shoulders sagged in relief, her entire body relaxing, Maura felt the need to lift a finger. A single finger, pushing her closer to that ledge. "But not forever, Jane. I won't keep what's inside me, for you, a secret forever."
Jane nodded slowly, recognizing the resolve in Maura's eyes, even Maura herself would have scoffed at the notion. "Fair enough," she finally answered.
Callie was tired of getting ready in the tiny bathroom that didn't have her usual amenities. She wanted her iPod dock, her plethora of hair stuff, lotions, make up, perfume. This one had a small travel bag with her essentials, but it wasn't home. And the longing she felt for her daughter was only made worse inside this meticulously cleaned, freshly-toweled bathroom. There was no rubber duck in the bathtub, no threadbare robe that Arizona occasionally liked to steal. It made her sad. She sighed, capping her lipstick as she blotted at the freshly applied coat with a tissue.
Arizona wandered into the bathroom, frowning a little at the stark contrast to their well-loved space at home. She had no idea how closely her thoughts aligned with her wife's, though she wouldn't be surprised. The only bright spot of the whole ordeal was the unusual amount of alone time they suddenly had. Alone time that allowed Arizona to fully admire her freshly showered Calliope, standing in front of the mirror, wrapped in one of the plush hotel towels. The blonde slipped in behind her, wrapping her arms around Callie's waist. She nosed into her shoulder before resting her chin on it.
"Hi," Callie smiled into the mirror. "You look glum. You can't be my perky wife."
"It's me, promise," Arizona huffed. Though she wasn't really perky. At all.
Callie turned her head to kiss Arizona's temple. "I really want to go home."
"Me too," the blonde admitted, squeezing Callie little tighter. "As much as I love spending time with you, I miss our girl."
Reaching a hand back, Callie stroked Arizona's hair fondly. "Me too. I actually didn't think it was possible to miss a person who can barely get my name right this much."
Arizona had to laugh at that. "I love you. So much."
"I love you too. If anything this whole cabin fever experience reminds me of how much."
"Yeah?"
"Mhmm, I forgot a few things. Like how cute you are when you wake up and don't vault straight out of the bed for the baby. Like a big cover-hogging octopus or something."
Arizona rolled her eyes. "Aw, how sweet," she mumbled sarcastically.
"I mean it!" Callie said as she turned to face her wife, plucking at the belt on her robe. "And you sleep naked here. Can you sleep naked at home?"
"Not with Mark's lack of manners, no."
"Hey, we all remember the coq au vin night," Callie smiled. "He's been pretty good ever since."
"Mm, and you've never been better," Arizona teased as she closed the space between them, pressing a kiss to Callie's neck.
"Mm, don't start. We have to go to this will r-reading," Callie gasped as Arizona tugged the knot on her robe free, letting the terrycloth slip off her shoulders, leaving her completely bare before Callie's eyes.
"I'll be quick," she promised, nails raking up Callie's thigh and beneath the towel as she pushed her back toward the counter next to the sink.
Callie was suddenly grateful for the lack of bathroom accouterments as Arizona hoisted her onto the counter, one hand pulling open the towel while the other tugged at the elastic of her underwear. "Or we could be a little late. Again."