Consider me apologetic for the long wait. I lost interest but I have been persuaded to continue until this story is completed.
In the morning, Maura is gone. Jane rubs her tired eyes as the morning light bleeds into her apartment, she finds the guest room door slightly ajar. It's enough for her to see the empty and perfectly made bed.
She feels something akin to rejection. She swallows it down with a cup of strong black coffee and hopes she can figure out what the hell is happening to her.
She can't have feelings for Maura. It's not the lesbian thing, Jane's never had a problem with it. But her entire life she was sure she was straight. She enjoyed sex - sex with men. Especially Casey. Sex with Dean was mediocre and boring but it was sex with a man and she was sure she enjoyed that.
But, Maura is her best friend. Her very best friend. There are no secrets between them, unlike she has with Casey. He doesn't know what her favorite pair of underwear are and Maura does.
He doesn't know what makes her feel sexy, but Maura does.
A headache starts to form between her eyebrows as she tries to figure out why exactly Maura even knows those things about her. Surely, there are some secrets kept between best friends.
She makes a note to ask her brother about how close he is with Benny Pavone, his best friend from high school.
Still, Jane thinks as she brushes her teeth and the steam from her shower dissipates before her eyes and fogging the vision of herself in the mirror, even if she could get over the fact that Maura is a woman, and obviously that's a pretty big barrier between them; Jane doesn't know how to love a woman. She's never had to. Unless it was platonic or love for her Ma.
She thinks about her old best friend Susan Smart from when she was seven. Then Susan left her because another girl had an actual tea set and more dresses for her to play in.
She thinks how she didn't think of Susan as nothing but a friend, but it really hurt when she left her. Ever since then, Jane hasn't been able to be close with women. Men have always been so much easier. Not just because of the obvious reasons like Jane's always been a tomboy and sports has always been her thing but because with men she doesn't have to be intimate with them.
Until Maura came along.
And Maura opened her up like a scar that didn't heal properly. She fixed the wound and saw Jane for what she was. She bandaged Jane and aided her, and took care of her like she was still tender but strong enough to take a little pain.
She saw Jane at her rawest. She saw Jane hit the bottle like an alcoholic and she didn't judge her nor did she coddle her.
She saw Jane.
There is no possible way Jane could allow herself to have feelings for Maura, because there is no possible way Maura could see Jane as anything but a fucked up borderline alcoholic.
Maura's distracted. She has been all morning. Enough to have accidentally put on two different shoes, though in her defense they were at least the same color. Angela, bless that woman's heart, was kind enough to bring Maura a pair while the Medical Examiner refused to leave her office at the risk of being noticed by the rest of her colleagues. She would never live it down.
Susie nervously shuffles through the autopsy. Maura sees her from her desk, through the glass windows separating her office from the sterile room.
The criminalist looks around before noticing Dr. Isles on the other side of the glass. She goes through the conjoining door and hands Maura a file. "Test results on the victim from yesterday. There were no traceable drugs in his system. Though-"
"What?"
"Well," she leans on Maura's desk. Not toward the honey-blonde, just against the desk. "He stopped taking his HRT three days ago."
Maura opens the file and skims the results. "Hmm," she hums. "That's certainly something Detective Rizzoli can investigate further."
"Detective Rizzoli?" Susie chuckles a little as though Maura's just mumbled an obscenity. Off her boss' deadpan, she sobers. "Sorry." She straightens. "Trouble in the Homicide bullpen?"
"Nothing worth discussing with a colleague." Maura closes the file and slides it away from herself with deliverant fingers. When Susie lingers a moment longer she debates ordering the criminalist to take the results to the bullpen, but decides against it. She doesn't want Jane to know there's something wrong.
She doesn't even know if there's something wrong.
She does know, however, Susie is staring at her with a curious look. "Is there something I can do for you, Senior Criminalist Chang?"
The other woman flinches at the title then frowns. "No," she says quickly. "Just wondering what steps I should take next."
"Right," Maura's jaw clicks as she goes through a mental list. "Detective Frost is certain he'll be able to ID the victim by tonight. There was a gooey substance I found on the victim's left shoe. Could you test that?"
Susie nods, firmly and proudly as though she's just been given an order from her general. "Will do," she leaves hurriedly.
Maura deflates as her assistant leaves. She tries to focus her attention, though it's fruitless at this juncture, on her laptop.
On it, her notes stare just as unblinkingly back. The words are small and almost blurry to an extinct of becoming unreadable. She sighs and puts her glasses on.
It does nothing for her attention. Though it makes it look like she's working.
Maura wonders, as she checks her watch, why Jane hasn't come down with an apologetic coffee and even more apologetic smile.
But then she thinks her best friend must blame her for the ordeal. Which is rightfully placed, she did kiss Jane. Even if the kiss had been insinuated by the Detective.
The folder burns beneath her arm and she tries to ignore it. She wants to wait. Maybe for when the bullpen is at its most busiest and she can chicken out of confronting Jane about the kiss.
But the folder doesn't yield. The warm manilla paper feels like needles to her skin. She cringes and relents with an unenthusiastic sigh as though she's a greatly busy woman doing BPD a justice.
When she reaches the fourth floor of the building, she finds Frankie leaning over his sister's desk arranging a bouquet of flowers that she can't see properly. She can only make out the purple.
Her step falters, much as the smile she put on for her colleagues.
He doesn't see her, nor does Jane as she hisses at him to stop.
Detective Frost does, he grunts or clears his throat — Maura isn't really sure — and Sergeant Korsak straightens in his chair. Jane and Frankie stop their movements almost immediately. Frankie turns and intercepts her view of the flowers.
She doesn't know if it's on purpose or he just happens to like standing uncomfortably against the corner of Jane's desk.
Maura feels the hairs on the back of her neck stand up but she ignores them. "The his daily testosterone supplements. Our forensics lab has ruled out poison and drowning, which would mean the blow to the head was definitely the cause of death."
"That means the victim was thrown into the water after he died." Korsak says, mostly to himself.
Maura nods in agreement. "Yes."
"You got anything else?" Jane asks from her desk. There's nothing in her tone that helps Maura understand if she resents her for the kiss or forgives her.
She sighs almost sadly. "I found a substance beneath the victim's left shoe. Susie is analyzing it now as we speak. I did also find fibres of silk in the victim's hair. Though he was only wearing denim and cotton. I've had the forensics lab testing the fibres but so far they haven't concluded much." She wants to add because it's been a busy day and they've been working on other cases. Maura has been too distracted to push for Jane's case.
"That's it." She states as though she's just jumped through fourteen hoops half naked.
The four cops stare unblinkingly at her for a moment longer.
"I'll be down in my office if anyone needs me," her eyes flicker to Jane for a fraction of a second before returning to Korsak and then Frost.
But she doesn't return to her office. Instead she goes to visit Angela because she desperately needs to talk to someone if not Jane.
Jane slaps her hands over her face embarrassingly when the elevator closes with Maura enclosed in it.
"She freaking hates me," she groans.
"She doesn't hate you, Janie." Frankie sits on her desk and touches the flowers again. "I think she might have even invited you downstairs."
"Right," Jane straightens when she hears Cavanaugh's office door close. "I shouldn't have got these stupid flowers. What are they even supposed to mean?"
"Purple hyacinths mean you're sorry," Frankie says a little poetically. Jane double-takes.
"Seriously?"
He only nods, matter-of-factly.
"Jesus, Frankie. Maybe you should be dating her."
She knows by her tone she's phrased it all wrong, not that she's even dating Maura. Frost opens his mouth with a smirk but Jane silences him with the pen in her hand that's thrown as hard as she can muster in a second moment's notice.
He whines in pain across from her and she smirks.
"What are you even sorry for?" he rubs his face beneath his eyes. She doesn't entirely know which part of it she got, his hands are big enough to cover his entire face.
"That's for me to know," Jane pushes her chair back and stands. She takes the bouquet. "And you to never find out."
"Please," Korsak rolls his eyes, chewing on a donut. Jane wants to yell at him about being such a freaking cliche but she's actually craving a maple bar herself. "I may not know a lot about that techy stuff and Frost might not know the least bit about old school but between the two of us, we can figure it out."
"Well good luck with that because you're not getting anything out of me and she most definitely wouldn't tell you." But as she says it she's a little unsure of herself. She continues after a beat. "Besides, trust me. You don't wanna know."
"Well we know it was your fault." Frost says. "Guess that doesn't narrow it down because you do a lot of fucked up shit." He says.
Jane scowls. "Yeah and I wonder how many fuck ups it'll take you until you're back in robbery and Frankie here is my new partner." Off his terrified look she smirks. "You might wanna get going on IDing the vic."
"On it," he grumbles almost annoyed. Frankie pulls up a chair next to him.
As she's leaving the bullpen, flowers in hand, Korsak trails behind her. "I don't think BBK knows you can't technically demote him."
She shrugs lazily, as if to say "oh well, too late to explain that to him now".
But instead she just says, "No, I can't. But I've got the highest clearance rate in Homicide so Cav would be willing to wipe Jo Friday's ass if I asked him to."
Korsak guffaws all the way down to the morgue. He sobers a little when they hit the cold breeze. "Say, what are you sorry for again?"
"I didn't tell you."
He follows her down the hall. They past the lab before he speaks again. "Seriously, Rizzoli. Did you call the Doc Queen of the Dead to her face or something?"
Jane snorts. "No," she sighs sadly after a silent moment. "But that would have been better."
"Damn I really want to know now." Korsak groans.
The autopsy is empty. So is her office. Jane hisses a curse sotto voce.
"Just leave them," he shrugs as though it's plainly the only option left.
She knows she should. Delivering them to Maura personally was something she wanted to do to feel less like a coward but she so desperately wants to leave them with a note. So she does.
She scribbles one on the notepad and sticks it to the side of the vace.
"See," Korsak claps her on the back once. It's a hard blow that ellicits a groan in protest from her. "Sorry," he winces and removes his hand. "She'll know you're sorry. Call you. And you two ladies will be drinking at the Robber together in no time at all."
"Except," Jane puts the pen back where she found it. "This time I really did a stupid thing and I'd be lucky if Maura ever wanted to drink in the same vicinity as me."
His brows shoot up but he hides the surprise and confusion before she looks at him. She looks desperate for advice but he doesn't know what to say. "I don't know much about catfights." He says apologetically.
"Wasn't a catfight." She seethes.
"Well I don't know much about women."
Jane gives him a sardonic round of applause. "Been waitin' to hear you say that for years now."
He lets her have her moment of victory before continuing. "But," he says with emphasis. "I do know that nothing can't be fixed with a heartfelt apology, chocolate, and flowers."
Jane sucks her teeth. "Sounds like you've been watching too many hallmark movies. That doesn't actually work. It takes days, maybe even weeks, or hell sometimes it might take months for a woman to actually forgive. And I mean truly forgive. Not just say she forgives you and tucks what you did in a little compartment inside her memory to bring back up in a later argument when she wants to destroy you. Apologies are just words and sometimes words are what got you into the mess in the first place."
"What about actions?" he suggests. "Show her you're sorry."
"I don't know how." She says quietly. "I don't know if I should give her space or take her out for a beer and try to explain myself. But that wouldn't work because I don't even fucking know why I did what I did but I do know having beer in my system didn't help."
"So it's something you did and not said." He says as though he's just caught a perp in a lie. "Interesting."
"Vince this is serious."
Because she says his first name, he sobers immediately because it is serious. He scratches his hairy chin then sighs. "Look, Jane. There's no right way to apologize. You just try until they've forgiven you. Give her flowers, if that doesn't work then you send the chocolate. And then the heartfelt apology. If it comes down to it, buy her the most expensive wine your wallet can afford and stand on her porch until she lets you in."
She only relaxes a little so he continues. "Maybe you could make her a dinner. You know how to cook something, right?" he tries to smile jokingly hoping it would be enough for Jane to roll her eyes but relent with a smile. She doesn't.
She thinks. "I can burn cup noodles and make thick mac and cheese."
He sighs.
"Well maybe you should ask your Ma to help you with that one. Women love cooked dinner, right? You'd like it if someone made you dinner as an apology?"
"I don't think Maur loves food as much as me." She says thoughtfully.
"But it's the thought that counts. That you tried."
She weakens, accepting his logic. "I guess it couldn't hurt to try.."
"Good." He nods. "Now let's leave before she comes back." They sneak the back way up, through the stairs.
Jane doesn't run into Maura and she's grateful because she doesn't think she can handle having to explain to her best friend that she might be gay. Along with that, she might have feelings for her. At least not yet.