A/N: First, whoa. Thank you! Wow. I just. Yeah. Words. Thanks for all the alerts and the reviews. They really kept me feeling like not an idiot. (What is with that sentence? Gah.) Second, sorry this is so freakin' long! I don't know what happened. I wrote it out long hand then started typing it and it just yeah. 4,000 + words later here we are. Third, there are a lot of you reading this and I feel like I'm going to disappoint y'all at some point. So I'm just going to go ahead and apologize for that in advance. Fourth, I don't think I'm good at writing Maura. So there's that disclaimer.
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters used in this fanfiction. Not making money off this etc.
The next morning Maura found herself knocking on the door to her guesthouse. She hoped Angela wouldn't be the second Rizzoli in as many days to slam the door in her face. She fidgeted with her hands as she waited for the door to open. Thoughts of Jane hung in her head.
Angela opened the door with a knowing look on her face. "I was wondering when you would show up at the door." At Maura's silence and sheepishness Angela smiled kindly at her. "Come in, come in!" She said ushering Maura in the house. Angela led Maura by the hand to the kitchen table. Angela started making breakfast for the other woman. The silence in the room was neither uncomfortable nor awkward. Maura took the time to gather her thoughts.
"How do I fix it?" It was not what she had been planning to say. She meant to ask something else entirely. She meant to ask why Jane had tried so hard and then when Maura was finally ready to move on she blocked her path like a solid brick wall. Because Jane was in the wrong. Wasn't she? This whole thing was because of Jane. Jane had shot her father – biological father – she corrected herself. She had a dad, long before she knew about Patrick Doyle and that did not change. But the Irish Crime Boss connected her to a life, a different life, one where she could've had a brother or sister. A life with parents who knew what she needed, what she wanted, without being told or asked.
Doyle was the only person she knew that knew who her biological mother was. Her overly scientific brain needed to know what else ran through her blood. Whose eyes did she have? Did she look more like her biological mother or Doyle? Did she have her biological mother's smile? Those were things young kids were always told growing up. She had heard it constantly in playgrounds and social events. Men with graying hair telling sons of business owners they were just like their dad, they had the same smile or the same eyebrows. Occasionally someone would remark that she looked like her mother but it was purely coincidence and meant nothing. She loved her parents, they raised her, they gave her a life and opportunities when they didn't have to but there was so much to learn, so much she didn't know.
When Jane shot Doyle and she watched him fall from the catwalk she felt betrayed. Jane knew she needed to know who her biological mother was. Jane knew that Doyle was the only one that knew. And she still shot him. All of her dreams of finding out answers fell with him, or so she thought. Maura shouldn't have to figure out a way to apologize to Jane. Jane should have to come to her. Then she remembered Jane's words. Jane was hurt too. Jane was right, she had left. But that's how she dealt with things, and Jane should know that. She placed her elbows on the table putting her hands over her face. This was all just such a mess.
Angela let the question linger in the air while she finished preparing the breakfast and thought of what to say. Maura was very different than Jane. With her daughter all she had to do was say something completely opposite of what she knew Jane was thinking and Jane would snap. Jane was headstrong; she never wanted anyone to think she was thinking something she wasn't. Jane would always set the record straight. But Maura was different. The way she presented herself to people, the way she sat, the way she spoke, the way she ate, all of it was so different than Jane. Even the doctor's posture at that moment was different than Jane would ever sit when she was hurt. Maura's back was straight and her hands rested in her lap after coming to her face just once. She stared straight ahead. Not a single button was out of place on her blouse; her hair was made, her makeup done. Everything was in order. If Angela herself didn't know the younger woman she wouldn't suspect a thing was wrong. But Angela did know Maura, not as well as Jane but she knew her. After moving into the guesthouse and during Jane's recovery from her self-inflicted gunshot they had bonded.
She knew enough about Maura and Jane's relationship to know that they needed each other. The last four months without their bond was dragging both of them into a hole. Jane had reverted back into work. She did absolutely nothing else. It was work then sleep and repeat. She brought her work home with her, neglected her health, put every single fiber of her being into each and every case. Angela feared she would get burnt out or worse. She couldn't bear the thought of another Hoyt, another man threatening her daughter's life. The man still tortured her beyond the grave. If Angela had the chance she would have put a scalpel to his heart way before Jane did for doing what he did to her daughter. She sighed out loud flipping a pancake over. But Maura had also reverted. She didn't know Maura before Jane but she could tell the doctor was more scientific than usual. She was more reserved and distant. They were each others' yin and yang. Angela put the food she prepared on a plate and placed it in front of the doctor.
Maura jumped slightly, looking down. She was about to refuse the food before she saw what was on the yellow plate. Bunny pancakes. Angela had remembered her conversation with Jane in the precinct café months ago. Her posture softened immensely, she was safe. "Thank you."
Angela sat across from her, her own breakfast finished long before Maura had arrived. "The Rizzoli family doesn't do anything quietly. We don't let our anger fester. We're loud when we're upset. We're those people you see in the grocery store yelling at each other in the middle of the milk isle. We confront our problems head on. I can't count the number of times I've had to pull Frankie or Tommy off of each other or Jane for that matter." She chuckled slightly at the memories. "Growing up the way Jane did she got this idea in her head that she's not supposed to run away from anything. She has to face all her demons. Sometimes she forgets that not everyone is like that. She forgets that some people need space to figure things out. She forgets and then she gets hurt. In her mind, when people leave or don't talk about things or whatever it is she thinks it means they're gone for good." She sighed folding a small dish towel over her leg. "Take her father for example. She hasn't spoken to him since he left." She paused clearing her throat. She needed to get back on track; this was not about her and her ex-husband. "The point is it takes Jane a while to accept something she doesn't like. You went to Africa for a month, you refused to speak to her for four and I'm pretty sure we'd not be having this conversation if I hadn't sent you last night to check on her." She sent Maura a knowing look before continuing. "That made her think that maybe you weren't coming back. Maybe you really don't want to be her friend. Maybe you can't forgive her for whatever it is she's done. She accepted that. And then you went to her last night and I'm assuming she yelled at you?" Maura nodded. "She just doesn't want to get her hopes up. Jane is sensitive. She likes to think she's not but she's just got such a big heart. Knowing that she hurt you is probably weighing on her a lot. It's going to take a while before she can even forgive herself." She looked Maura in the eye. "If you really want to fix it, just talk to her. Tell her how you feel, tell her your side."
Maura narrowed her eyes. Was it really that easy? All she had to do was talk to Jane? Then everything would be okay? Everything Angela had said made sense. She knew Jane. She knew the woman she saw the night before was wounded and more than just physically. Their separation did more than just hurt Maura. If she knew anything about her best friend she knew Jane was probably blaming herself. The other woman was probably just as tired of all this as she was. Maura sighed. When had life gotten so complicated? She thanked Angela before making her way back to her home. Sitting on her couch she thought about the way she was raised and why she was the way she was.
She had a lonely childhood. Other kids found her boring and she just couldn't force herself to interact with them. She had a nanny when she was younger that would take her to the playground while her parents worked. Seeing all the other kids playing hop scotch and sliding with each other down slides made her giddy and uncomfortable all at the same time. She wanted to join. She wanted to play tag and Red Rover but even at the young age of seven she just didn't know how to ask. The few times she tried she was met with laughs or unwanted stares. More often than not she found herself sitting alone in the sandbox or under the neon colored slide or under a tree reading a book that was too big for her.
One boy, she remembered, found her under the slide reading a book. He told her she was pretty. His name was Ricky. He was sweaty and had lost both of his front teeth. He said he was hiding from the cops. He then explained, after seeing her alarmed look, he and his friends were playing cops and robbers. She didn't know what that game was but it sounded dangerous. He sat with her for what seemed like hours in their children's minds. The reality was only maybe five minutes. But just as Maura was beginning to think this boy was her friend or could have been her friend the 'cops' showed up. Three other little boys came sliding into their utopia with fingers held like guns yelling 'Pew-pew-pew.' She always remembered this story because for a while anytime anyone mentioned guns this was the first thought that popped into her head. She knew scientifically guns made louder, more different sounds but this was her only experience with "guns". Thus psychologically the memory was already in place. It wasn't until much later she would realize that guns made loud, life-changing sounds. She wouldn't realize until much later that guns were dangerous in the wrong hands and a hero's honor in the right ones.
The toothless boy dropped her book into the small rocks as if it had been on fire while the other boys made kissing sounds with their mouths. Ricky ran from under the slide with the others chasing him, finger guns aimed and at the ready. It wasn't the last time her life would be interrupted by gunfire. After that meeting she had mainly stuck to the sandbox or the trees, somewhere safe and boring, like her. She stuck to places she would not be interrupted, where she could read in peace. She was always on the outside looking in. She was always a part of something but never belonging there, like she was simply there to keep a seat warm or for background noise.
Then there were her parents. Her whole life she had known she was adopted. Her parents told her before she was even in pre-school. They wanted her to know because they didn't want her to find out somehow and feel like her whole life was a lie. They considered her their daughter and they loved her that was all that mattered they said. Young Maura rationalized their words, it made sense and she was grateful. But in her grade school days she had a fear that grew and grew without reassurance. Knowing she was adopted made her fear that if she did the wrong thing her parents would send her back to wherever it was she came from. In her young mind that place was not a good place. She didn't know how to ask them for that reassurance. She kept it to herself and tried her best to be the best that she could be so they wouldn't have a reason to send her away.
Her father would sit with her most nights, during her younger days. He would read to her. Some nights would be fiction, some nights it would be poetry, and sometimes it would be non-fiction biographies of famous men and women. You can be anything you want to be, darling. He would say with a smile and a kiss to her forehead. She would get lost in the words and her father's voice until she would finally fall asleep. When she was old enough, after she learned how to read, he gave her the book to read out loud. He would smile as he helped her with words she couldn't quite pronounce. When she could read without the help he stopped coming to her room. Instead he had a bookcase brought up to her room that she could fill with her own books. Maura who was never good at asking for things, couldn't find the words to tell him she missed him reading to her, that even though she could read on her own she liked hearing the sound of his voice as she fell asleep.
The time Maura spent with her mother was mostly during shopping outings. She never had to ask. Her mother would take one look at her too short dresses or sore feet from too small shoes and whisk her away to a children's boutique. It was in these outings that she felt most connected to her mother. She loved the way her mother's eyes would light up at a particular outfit and how she would describe why it was so special, how she would teach her all the ins and outs of clothing and fashion. They would spend hours together with the manager of the store sorting through different pieces. It gave her a connection, a gateway, much like reading had done with her father. Her mother was an artist. Art was beautiful, she would say. Then she'd look at Maura hug her close whispering Just like you in her ear. Part of her wanted to grow forever just so she could keep those moments. But once again after she was adequately versed in fashion and was old enough she was sent off with her own money by herself to buy her own clothes.
She shut Jane out because it's how she was raised. She wasn't brought up with a 'normal' family. Her parents were socialites with friends in high places. Most of them were snide, passive aggressive people full of backhanded compliments. No one said anything offensive outright to others' faces. If someone was offended they left and didn't invite that person to other functions. It was all about saving face, avoiding a scene and avoiding confrontation in the public eye. The art of deflection was something she had learned early on in her life during the many dinner parties her parents threw.
Then there was boarding school and college and life just happened. She drifted from her parents. She made friends. She met men that she fell in love with. She started to become her own person but she was so lost. But Jane had changed that. Jane ruined everything. The detective had flipped her world completely upside down, made it turn on a different axis. Jane was the first real, best friend she ever had. Jane also scared her to death.
She met Jane right after Jane's first encounter with Charles Hoyt. Quickly she realized Jane was the type of woman that demanded respect from everyone. She was loud and bold and wasn't afraid of asking for what she wanted. Maura was completely blown away. She had never met someone, much less a woman, like that in her high society life. The taller woman both amazed her and terrified her all at the same time. She was a contradiction to everything she had ever known.
Their first crime scene together one of the other detectives was grumbling about how long she was taking surveying the body. Maura was just going to ignore it, like she did to all of their comments. But then Jane strutted on scene. "Finally, Rizzoli." The detective said. "Queen of the Dead here is taking forever and I got a hot date. Case is yours." Maura would have tuned him out but he was loud and had a demanding voice. She knew the moniker, it had bothered her at first but then she had gotten used to it. Maura expected Jane to agree or say nothing. Suffice to say she hadn't known the female detective long.
Maura was still bent over the body writing things down and asking her people to do certain things for her. Then everything seemed to stop. She looked up. Jane's shoulders squared off as she faced her colleague. "I've had it with your 'Queen of the Dead' bullshit." Jane's words were clear, her rough voice sounded slightly menacing. "That woman," Jane pointed in her direction. Maura could feel all eyes on her. She felt a blush creeping up her neck. She never blushed. She did not like this. She was not used to this. "Is our Chief Medical Examiner. Without her, we have no case. She's as much part of this team as me or anyone else for that matter. You all need to back off and treat her with the respect she deserves." Maura was awestruck. No one had ever stood up for her. No one had chosen her. No one had tried to connect with her before. But this woman, whom she had only met once, did just that. Jane walked up to her afterwards and put a scarred hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry about them. They filled my desk with tampons my first week of homicide. They're a bunch of lousy guys sometimes but they're good cops." After that most people stopped using the nickname, mostly out of fear of the Rizzoli Wrath But they had stopped. Jane had brought her into a different society than she was used to that day, one that was known for its blue bond. She made her feel like she belonged somewhere, like she was part of a team. She didn't feel as lost after that.
But it also brought on a whole slew of problems. Jane had introduced her to this brand new world. Often times it seemed she was spinning without a map to look to for direction. Jane became her compass. She would show her what she said was right or wrong by her facial expressions. Jane was easy to read unless she was purposefully guarding herself. Jane seemed to understand though. She had taken Maura under her wing. They became friends. It was Maura's first time ever having a true friend, a true best friend. She was scared often times that Jane would pick someone better, someone who understood sarcasm or someone with a more similar background.
Then Jane shot Doyle. And it felt like Jane was choosing someone over her. Maybe it was Dean or Frost or the badge the detective had on her right hip, but Jane wasn't thinking about Maura when she fired her weapon. That much was clear even to Maura who was still swimming with a life jacket when it came to the waters of friendships. She felt insecure about their relationship for the first time ever. She felt like her life was spinning more and more out of control. She had lost her compass. First her mother nearly died – which had been bad enough – then there was Doyle and it was all just too much. She had to leave. She needed space. She had to think. Maura needed to get some semblance of control back into her life. So after her mother and Doyle both recovered she went to Africa. Leaving was the only thing she had ever known. Angela was right. She wouldn't have ever gone to Jane on her own without someone forcing her to. But now that she had she needed the detective back in her life. She needed the connection. With Jane she saw a glimpse of a life she could have, a life she didn't know she wanted until Jane showed her. Now she needed that life and she couldn't have it without Jane.
She groaned uncharacteristically as she made her way up to her bedroom. She changed into some running clothes deciding to go for a run in the middle of the afternoon on a Saturday despite the fact that she was more of an early morning runner. She needed to clear her head.
Later in the early evening her doorbell rang. Her fluttered for a moment in her chest. Maybe it was Jane? She placed the book she was reading down and stood from her place on the floor next to Bass. Maura opened the door to find a different Rizzoli.
Frankie Rizzoli stood on the opposite side of the door with a knowing look on his face. "Ma told me to come get you for dinner." Before she could argue he grabbed her hand, closed the door behind her, and pulled her towards the guesthouse. Maura didn't have it in her to fight it. She was too tired of fighting anyways.
Dinner had been a quiet affair. Maura was too busy thinking about Jane to speak much. Angela was too busy looking at Maura and thinking about her daughter to talk. Frankie and Tommy were too busy eating to even care about the problems of the women in their lives. Jane had stopped going to family dinners the month Maura went to Africa, which was the second month of their self-imposed separation. So when Jane skipped this dinner no one was shocked.
Maura sat at the table glancing at the empty chair on her left. Now who's the one running? Given the choice Jane always sat on her left. When Maura had asked about it long ago early in their friendship Jane had made a face before going into a very long detailed reason of why she had to sit on Maura's left. Jane had said it was because she was left handed and Maura was right handed. If they were sitting at a booth or next to each other at the table their arms would continually bump into each other. Than Jane had gone into a story of how one time she sat at Frankie's right at a restaurant. They had ended up knocking over both of their drinks and the bread basket. Maura had laughed at the thought of the two young Rizzoli siblings. Jane said it wouldn't have been so funny if it was red wine on her beige carpet. Jane always sat on her left. But that spot was empty now. She hoped it wouldn't be empty forever.
At the end of dinner Angela was going to send Frankie to Jane's with a plate of food, Frankie all but dragged Maura to the car with him.
At first Maura felt guilty walking into Jane's apartment without the other woman's consent. But then she started noticing things around the apartment, things that she'd never seen before. There were case files on the floor, copies of reports on the coffee table, pushpins with mug shots hung on the walls, and dirty clothes littered every other available space. She had heard of people bringing their work home but this was a bit extreme. "It was worse, before Hoyt." Frankie said in a quiet voice making his way into the kitchen. Is this what Jane had been like before they met? All about work? She swallowed hard, once again facing the fact that she wasn't the only one hurt. She picked up the dirty clothes while Frankie worked on the trash.
Once the living room was picked up Maura glanced at Frankie. He nodded his head at her silent question. She took a deep breath making her way into Jane's room. Jo Friday yipped excitedly at the intrusion before bounding to Maura's feet. The doctor was frightened that the small dog would wake her friend but the lump on the bed did not move. She ushered Jo Friday from the room and closed the door.
After her eyes adjusted to the darkness she began picking up more of Jane's clothing. It was a wonder the woman had any clean clothes left to wear. She stepped closer to the bed. Jane had a pillow clutched to her chest and one long, tan, bare leg stuck out of the covers. Even in sleep the detective cradled her injured arm. Maura sighed quietly forcing herself not to reach out and stroke the other woman's face. She always liked watching Jane sleep. The hardness of her features seemed to soften and the stress melted from her bones. She was peaceful and soft; it was a whole other side to the detective that so few people had the chance to see. Jane's got a big heart. Angela's words came floating back to her. Maura knew that, she'd known that for a long time. She didn't think you'd come back. Maura shook her head. She left a note on the nightstand along with a bottle of water and an easy open Advil bottle. After walking out of the room she looked around once more at the mug shots of mean looking men and women. She didn't know how Jane could live like this. Everything was just such a mess. With Jo Friday in toe Maura and Frankie left Jane's apartment.
…
Jane woke up the next morning to the sun shining through thin curtains into her bedroom. Looking at the clock on the nightstand she realized it wasn't morning at all; it was noon. She yawned tiredly. She felt like she could sleep for years. For once the aching in her body matched the aching of her heart. She didn't think that was possible, but it was. It was very possible. Dislocated shoulders did not make fun experiences. It had happened to her only once before. A suspect of theirs thought he could toss her around and get away with it. He severely underestimated her tenacity. She ended up chasing him with a dislocated shoulder and tackling him to the ground. The anger and adrenaline had severely dampened the pain that time. But now she was just tired. She was older and sadder and she just didn't care. Jane was on medical leave for the next week. She could sleep for the rest of the day. Hell, she could sleep for the rest of the week. With a heart heavy sigh she drifted off to sleep again.
The detective woke up to complete and utter darkness hours later. She hadn't expected her body, or mind for that matter, to let her sleep that long. But it seemed like even an emotional crisis wasn't enough to ward off mandatory sleep for long. Her stomach growled loudly seemingly echoing through the small room. Grumbling, she sat up with her feet dangling off the edge of the bed and cradling her left arm. She flipped her bedside lamp on. Immediately she noticed something was different. The air smelled faintly like cologne and perfume. She narrowed her eyes. Someone had been here. The clothes on her floor were picked up and Jo Friday was nowhere to be seen or heard. Her sling, she noticed, was folded up neatly on her nightstand. That's when she noticed a bottle of water, a bottle of Advil and a note sitting beside her lamp. Slipping the sling over her shoulder she picked up the note. Her heart skipped a beat at the handwriting. It was Maura's.
I hope you don't mind me having been here. Your mother dragged me to the guest house for dinner. We missed having you there. It was strangely quiet. Angela thought you might want some food and sent Frankie and I here. He's going to leave Jo with Tommy, so don't worry about her. Your food's in the oven. You really should eat Jane.
The note wasn't signed, but it didn't have to be. We missed having you there. What did that mean? What did any of this mean? "I'm such a jerk." She told the empty house. The night before she said things she shouldn't have said. She made the whole situation about her, about her hurt and her pain. Maura had almost lost two parents and she had been the cause of one and in a roundabout way the other. She had made this about her. She was the one who should have been begging for forgiveness, not demanding it. But she had begged, hadn't she? Pleaded even. She shook her head. She was being selfish. She had no right to demand anything from Maura. Maura needed time to figure things out. She needed to run tests and experiments. Maura wasn't like normal people; Jane never wanted her to be. Except last night she demanded it. And now Maura was checking up on her. I have got to fix this, she thought walking to the kitchen. But you tried. You tried and she wanted nothing to do with you.
After re-heating and eating the food she made her way back to her bedroom. She took some Advil, brushed her teeth, and then climbed back into bed. She would deal with everything later. Right now she was just too exhausted.
A/N: I really think Lorraine Brocco is underused on this show. Angela could be used for far more than just comedic relief. Again, really sorry if I disappointed you. I wasn't going to put this up until Sunday just because I wanted to give myself a little wiggle room while writing chapter three. But I finished this and then at like seven this morning waiting for my history class to start inspiration struck and now I've got half of chapter three written out by long hand (It's a process!) and yeah. Expect it within the week. So like by next Tuesday night. (Assuming anyone is still reading by then.)