Jane couldn't help but be in slight awe of the home on Beacon Hill. High ceilings, a large staircase, a foyer, marble floors, chandeliers, paintings, sculptures, and bookshelves of numerous volumes. The living room glowed in gold and scarlet hues. The furniture was expensive leather and velvet.
"This is nice," Jane managed. She was blushing again, embarrassed among the nice things and wealth. She was just a blue collar kid from Boston. Her friends' parents were mechanics, city workers, maybe a few firefighters at best. "You live here by yourself?"
"Currently," Maura replied. "This is my mother's house. But she's been in Pairs, teaching at the Sorbonne."
"She's a teacher?" Jane asked.
"Professor of Art History," she answered. Maura suddenly became self-conscious, worried about coming off too upright. It was something that earned her teasing in college. Alienated her from friends and other students. It's also what she hated about those she was forced to associate with through her youth. For Maura there was never a happy medium, never a comfortable place to belong. She grew up with either spoiled youths, pampered by a life of affluence or surrounded by others who would not accept her because of her upbringing. It was a painful position. One that accounted for some of her social difficulties.
"Impressive," Jane mumbled.
She was careful with her steps, not wanting to dirty anything, not wanting to touch anything. Maura led her to the kitchen, bringing the detective some ease. It was a less imposing space, still modern and well-decorated but lived in and used. The sitting area and television were also marks of the familiar.
"Can I get you something to drink? I was just having a glass of wine…"
"Just water," Jane said. "Thank you."
It was then that Maura took notice of the detective's pallor. She wavered slightly, ill looking and pale beneath the light. A light mist of sweat covered her forehead. Her brown eyes were tired, almost bloodshot, but it was obvious no rest would come to her. Jane's hands trembled slightly, though she attempted to hide it.
"How are you feeling?" Maura asked her.
She gave the detective a cool glass of water. Jane bid brief thanks and then gave a shrug. "I feel fine," she answered.
"Oh," Maura nodded, her voice a little too high pitched to be believed.
Jane smirked, staring into the glass. "Is it that obvious?" she asked.
"Is what obvious?"
"That I feel terrible?" Jane asked.
"I wouldn't say it's obvious. Speculating on others' emotions or feelings without any facts or context doesn't make for…"
Jane chuckled. "Never mind," she shook her head.
"So you're quitting," Maura stated suddenly. Jane raised her eyebrows in surprise. "I can tell that you're in withdrawal. You're exhibiting the normal symptoms but it's not advisable to abstain from long abuse without supervision. You could have seizures, delirium…"
"I think I'll be okay, doc," Jane assured. She slowly maneuvered her tired body onto a stool at the kitchen island, too worn out for manners.
Maura anxiously stared down at her hands, flat on the marble countertop. Since meeting the detective at the hospital, Jane's presence stirred simultaneous excitement and terror. Maura was completely infatuated, completely hungry for more. It was as though Jane was some scientific puzzle, waiting to be cracked open. But it didn't just intrigue Maura's mind. The curiosity stemmed deeper, hot in her chest, pushing bumps of excitement along her skin.
"So you couldn't sleep either?"
"What?" Maura stammered. She nearly knocked over her wine glass, clumsily leaning against the counter just an inch away from it. She cleared her throat. "I guess…I guess after a day like today it's hard to get my mind to rest."
"You mean even your mind does that?" Jane teased.
"Well, I suppose I didn't mean it like that. No one's mind is actually at rest. Even when we aren't conscious there are studies that certain networks of the brain in fact become more active…"
"Do you always talk like this?" Jane asked. She pinched the bridge of her nose as a headache resurfaced. "Or is it only to me?"
Maura blushed and looked down at the island counter top again. She gently grazed the side of her wine glass, turning it in slow circles. "You said you had some questions about the case?" she asked gently.
The kitchen became more somber. And Jane, gritting through another painful headache and swimming among the nausea in her gut, regretted her previous lie. Nothing worthy of investigation brought her to Maura Isles' home. Simply the desire to not be alone. The desire to flee her own skin. But even Jane knew it was also something else; another chance to see the doctor's face and shy smile.
"I uh…" Jane paused. "So you're Paddy's daughter…"
"That's what you came here to ask? I answered all of Detective Frost's questions," Maura suddenly snipped.
Jane watched in surprise as the doctor swiped her wine glass from the counter and defiantly dumped it into the sink. The woman appeared to be defensive and shaken. She kept her back aimed at Jane, hastily scrubbing the counters and the sink. There weren't even dishes to be cleaned.
"When did you find out?" Jane asked.
"Find out what?" Maura nearly growled.
"That he was your father," she clarified.
"I was a teenager," Maura said. "I asked my mother and she was honest with me. Paddy had been one of her students. When I was born, he left me with her…"
"And your mother?"
"Obviously she didn't want me. She never came looking. And I don't have much desire to find her either," Maura answered. She turned, arms folded across her full chest. "Is this helping your investigation Detective Rizzoli?"
Jane swallowed hard, ignoring the sweat coating her back and the sinking feeling that hit her stomach. She didn't' mean to put the doctor in distress or bring up old wounds. She quickly felt guilty. "Sorry," she managed. "I didn't mean to…"
"All those people," Maura suddenly spoke. Jane could see the glisten in her sad hazel eyes. "All those people died because of me."
Despite her own discomfort, Jane instantly shook her head. Her dark gaze dove straight into Maura's, desperate to make it clear that she was being honest.
"That's not true," Jane replied. "You have nothing to do with those murders or what happened today. Nothing you asked for or did could have caused this. It's someone sick, trying to get a message to Doyle. Unfortunately for you, you're just collateral…" she finished with a murmur.
"You don't think Paddy is responsible for this?" Maura asked. She'd calmed a bit. She didn't acknowledge Jane's assurance but she was no longer edgy and defensive.
"No," Jane said. "He seems to care about you; whether you think it or not. He clearly went through the trouble to keep you safe. From what we've gathered, someone found out about your relation and is trying to use it as leverage against him."
"Do you have any leads?" Maura asked.
Jane frowned and looked down. She shook her head in defeat.
"So someone is still out there trying to kill me?"
The detective instantly straightened up in her seat, face hardened and determined, despite her sickly hue. It was the previous strength she arrived with, the strength that made Maura lose her breath.
"No one is going to hurt you," Jane said.
"But if someone is still out there with the resources…"
"I'm not going to let anything happen to you," Jane told her. "I'm going to solve this case. And I'm going to keep you safe. I promise."
The two women allowed a heavy silence to wash over them. Jane swallowed hard, surprised by her own conviction. She could hardly see straight, hardly find the strength to stand, but she was determined to protect the woman before her. It was the first time in a long time she cared about a case. It was unsettling and reassuring all at the same time.
"I don't know if you're in much shape to be protecting anyone," Maura said.
"I'm tougher than I look," Jane scrapped. She anxiously glanced around the living room, suddenly feeling warm and nauseous again. She cleared her throat. "I'm sorry for barging in on you like this. You should get back to your evening…"
"It's okay. I'm actually enjoying the company," Maura confessed. "But if you have to go to the station to work on the case, I understand."
Jane smirked. "I don't think they'd let me back in there if I tried," she replied.
"I don't understand. They won't allow you to work?"
"No they will," Jane said. "Frost and I just pushed a little hard yesterday. Granted, your charming note in my discharge papers certainly didn't make it easier on me."
Maura thought of apologizing, almost looked down to blush, but decided to stay firm. She was a doctor above all else – whatever her personal attachments, not that she would concede they existed – she would stand by her diagnosis. After all, she was absolutely, one hundred percent correct.
"It's procedure. And if you are ever in the hospital's care again, your treatment team should know your medical history. That includes all addictions, previous illnesses and injuries, and anything that would interfere with your care," Maura said.
Jane simply waved her pink, casted hand in response, slowly getting down from her chair at the granite island, doing her best to hide that her legs wobbled.
"I understand," Jane told her. "I'm a fuck-up."
"That's not what I said," Maura snipped.
The detective ignored her, nervously wiping the beads of sweat that trickled down her temple and put a sheen on her neck. Her mouth was on fire, filled with saliva that warned against a sour stomach. She glanced around the living room anxiously looking for an escape.
"Jane?" Maura asked.
"It's warm in here," Jane muttered. She pulled the navy blazer off her strong shoulders, ignoring the fact that the fabric of her blouse was stuck to her back. It was difficult to maneuver around her wrapped arm but she was desperate for any sort of reprieve, ignoring how ungraceful it looked.
"I can turn on the air conditioning," Maura said.
"That's all right," Jane replied. "Where's your bathroom?"
"Across the foyer, down the hall, second door on the left…" Maura told her. She trailed off as the detective stumbled for few clumsy steps before the doctor finished. Jane placed her good hand on the back off the couch to brace herself as she fought a dizzy wave. She squeezed her eyes shut against the discomfort. Then when she could manage to pull in a few breaths she went forward again, as if blindly fighting some invisible foe. Maura timidly followed after her.
Jane all but broke down the bathroom door in her hastiness. In most cases she was a bull in a China cabinet and now it was even more so. She winced against the glaring light of the room, dropped to her knees and threw open the toilet seat not a second too soon. She was so rash in her entrance that she forgot to close the door behind her.
The doctor timidly peered in by the doorframe, uncertain whether she should help or give her privacy. Rationally, she knew Jane would probably prefer privacy. But as a doctor – and more importantly as someone with more empathy than she knew how to express – Maura was desperate to help.
Jane all but choked into the toilet, clinging desperately to the porcelain to hold up her weak body. She cringed in between bouts of vomiting as she heard the sink suddenly run behind her.
"No," she croaked. She lurched again, spewing vile into the toilet. "Just leave me."
Instead a cool, damp cloth was pressed to the back of her neck. It felt like a waterfall in the depths of hell. If she weren't so crippled by her own frailty and sickness, Jane would have yelled at the doctor but instead she succumbed to the gentleness. Maura's hands were on her again, this time, pulling back a few loose pieces of hair that fell out of her bun.
The vomiting continued for several minutes until it was just dry heaves, and those lasted painfully long as well. In between takes of air, Jane would tell Maura to leave. And each time, Maura simply stayed silent and kept her place. The doctor squatted behind her, even bracing the detective's body as she vomited herself weak.
Jane was a shaking, sweating mess by the time her stomach finally settled. She rested her head on the toilet seat, allowing her body to completely slacken.
"No, don't lay there," Maura whispered.
It was the first thing she said since she entered the bathroom. The doctor lifted Jane off the toilet, forcing her to lean back against the wall. Jane instantly hid her face with a hand and looked down at the floor.
"I'm okay. I don't want you to be here," Jane replied. Her voice was trembling almost as violently as her body.
"Too late detective," Maura told her.
She was at the sink again, running more water. Her strong hands wrung out another cloth and in an instant she was across from Jane. She frowned with sympathy, doing her best to keep stoic. To hide the glisten of understanding in her eyes. Maura carefully reached out, pulling the hand away from Jane's face.
The detective's eyes were red but no tears came. She was pale and sweaty, attention still averted from Maura. She was too weak to do anything else. Too emptied and deprived of all energies to move. She allowed Maura to reach forward, gently pressing the cloth to her forehead, wiping the sweat from her cheeks and pushing her hair back behind her ears. The detective did her best to remain strong and unaffected as the cloth rubbed against her fractured cheek and relaxed as the doctor pulled back.
"That's better," Maura said softly.
Her voice was a comforting melody. But Jane still couldn't look at her. She cleared her throat. "I'm sorry," she scrapped. "I'll go."
Before Jane could attempt to pull her long legs back under herself, Maura carefully nudged her back. "That's not option," she said.
"Yes it is. I'm not going to be sick on your bathroom floor all night," Jane told her.
"You just hit the twelve hour mark of your detox and you shouldn't be alone for the next twelve," Maura said. "You need to be under a doctor's care. And I believe I qualify."
Jane finally looked up, brown eyes raw and desperate. "Just take me home," she requested.
Maura shook her head. "I don't think that detail outside will let me anyway. Unless you'd like me to go get one of the patrolmen…"
"No," Jane nearly shouted.
"That's what I thought. So please accept my care. You're one of my patients and I took an oath," Maura said.
"You discharged me," Jane reminded her. "And I took an oath too; to protect you."
"You're not going to be able to do that if you don't let me take care of you," Maura told her.
Jane weighed her options with her back against the wall, collapsed in a slump of vulnerability and pity. She hated the way Maura looked at her. She hated it because she so desperately longed to be strong before the doctor. She longed to be a hero.
But that wasn't an option. Jane wasn't going to be a hero to anyone, anytime soon. Her options were bleak. While she would never admit it, not even to herself, going home alone seemed dangerous. She worried she would be one of those women who died alone in her apartment, not found for days, until the neighbors started to smell something foul. A rehab facility also held no promise. She wouldn't be trapped in a facility for a week, required to express feelings and meet other addicts. She was too proud. One of her many faults.
The only other option was to tell her family. To go home to her mother, to tell Angela that yet another one of her children was an addict. That not only was Tommy in jail, her husband off with another woman, and her oldest daughter a dyke detective she didn't approve of but also an addict in the middle of a detox and inches from being fired. And Frankie, Frankie was the one person she hadn't alienated. The one person left she could count on. For that, Jane refused to bring him down with her. To hurt him further. She would have to carry it alone.
But the determined look in Dr. Maura Isles' eyes told her there would be no alone. Until she was steady enough to care for herself, certain that she wouldn't kill over in the middle of the night, this would have to be her place. No matter how humiliating it felt.
"I have a guest bedroom," Maura put in.
The doctor watched Jane like a ticking time bomb. Her hazel eyes were nervous but hopeful. If this was the socially awkward doctor's idea of a sleep over, Jane felt sorry for her. She ran her casted hand down her clammy face.
"This is ten different levels of unprofessional," Jane finally said.
"Need I remind you of our experience as hostages?" Maura asked.
Jane held back a smirk. "You're never going to make it easy on me, are you?"
Without warning, Jane attempted to pick herself up off the floor. Her arms shook as she used the toilet as leverage, and her legs were weaker than they were only moments before. Maura grabbed the crook of her elbow, carefully lifting her back up to her tired feet. Jane leaned into her, this time a little less filled with regret. The room was still spinning under a now empty stomach and light head.
Maura carefully handled Jane's casted arm, holding it between soft hands as she led her out of the bathroom and down the dimly lit hall. The detective complied, not only feeling overwhelmingly fatigued but suddenly unable to think straight. As they crossed the foyer, Jane ventured a sly pass – though unaware if it was intentional or not.
"What will your boyfriend think when he finds me here?" Jane asked.
"I don't have a boyfriend," Maura answered.
Jane smiled secretly to herself as they returned to the living room. Her head was pounding from the withdrawal, though her stomach was temporarily calmed. Maura led her to the couch and Jane ungracefully collapsed onto the cushions. She shivered against the sweat that drenched her clothes.
"It's freezing in here," she chattered.
"You need dry clothes," Maura replied. She pressed a hand to Jane's clammy forehead. In from a short distance she could see the tremors in the detective's hands. Jane was without a doubt deep in drug and alcohol detox.
And while Maura knew the line was surely being crossed for both of them on professional and personal levels, it seemed there was no turning back. Maura simply couldn't leave her. Not in this state. But Jane had saved her life. And now it was Maura's time to save hers.
"Just stay here. I'll be back," Maura told her.
Jane didn't protests as Maura left the living room. She was trembling so violently her teeth chattered, making her headache even more intense. She'd lost most sense of what was happening. Usually she'd be stubborn and disgusted with herself for such behavior as puking at a stranger's house – let alone a beautiful woman's – but she was completely depleted. It was beyond sickness now. She needed to survive.
"You look bad Rizzoli. What the hell did you do to yourself?"
Jane sat up at the sound of the voice. She frantically looked around the room. It was recognizable, but one she only heard in dreams.
"You were never supposed to be like this. You were the smart one, remember?"
She spotted him this time. Rafael stood just across from her, nearly in reach if she was strong enough to stand, watching her from the other side of the coffee table. "Martinez?" she nearly choked. "What are you doing here?"
"You can't go like this Jane. Not now. You're better than this."
"I didn't mean to," Jane said hoarsely. She swallowed down the pit of tears lodged in her throat. "I didn't know what else to do. It was my fault…"
"It was never your fault. I signed off on the operation. I knew what could happen."
"It should have been me," Jane whispered. "I should have been me…."
"Jane?"
Maura's voice echoed in the small living room just as Rafael disappeared. Jane's face dropped in confusion, causing her to examine the room desperately. "He was just here," she announced. "It was Rafael."
"Who's Rafael?" Maura asked calmly.
She crossed the room with a clean bundle of clothes folded under her arm. Already she could sense Jane's disorientation. It was one of the many symptoms she anticipated. It's why the detective was better off in the awkward situation than left alone.
"My partner," Jane whispered. She blinked in rapid succession, still staring at the spot she last saw him. "He's dead. He died because of me."
Maura frowned, staying silent as she took a seat next to Jane on the sofa. She offered her the pile of clothes. "You should put this on."
"Where did he go?" Jane asked.
"You're hallucinating," Maura told her. "It's a common symptom of withdrawal. It's why you need to be under supervision."
"But he was here," Jane muttered.
"He wasn't here," Maura replied. She put the clothes in Jane's lap. "You need to change or you'll freeze."
Jane slowly shook her head. When Maura tried to offer them again, she shoved them away. "I don't need your help," she whispered. "You don't know me."
"You'll feel much better," Maura encouraged, ignoring the sting of the words.
A few surprising tears sprung to Jane's heartbreaking brown eyes. Maura did her best to remain unaffected as the detective look away. "I can't," she said.
"Let me help then," Maura whispered.
She was careful at first, reaching out with reservation. When Jane didn't pull away, Maura proceeded, unbuttoning the top of her collar with nimble fingers. The detective was so absent minded and fatigued that she hardly seemed to notice. She simply stared off, watching the last spot of her hallucination.
Maura did her best not to blush when the baby blue blouse was completely loosened. Jane's skin was olive and smooth, just as striking as her face. Her stomach was toned and flat, her breasts small but perky. A knotted scar poked out by her left ribs, worrisome and simultaneously arousing. Maura instantly looked away, occupying herself by helping Jane to put on the fresh shirt.
"Boston Cambridge," Jane said.
Maura's brow furrowed. She'd chosen the gray cotton crewneck with little thought. Now she nearly sighed in relief at the detective's awareness.
"Did you go there?" Jane asked. Her voice was staid and monotone but at least it was there.
"Yes for my undergraduate courses," Maura answered.
"What did you study?"
"Biochemistry and English Literature," Maura answered.
Jane chuckled. "That's like peanut butter and tuna fish," she said.
"I'm afraid I don't understand," Maura told her. She straightened the shirt onto Jane's lithe body as the detective shook her head.
"They don't go together. Usually people just study one or the other," Jane replied.
Maura shrugged. "I had dual interests. What did you study?"
Jane looked down at her hands. "I didn't go to college."
"It's not for everyone," Maura assured. She started to reach down and take off Jane's left boot.
"I got into Boston Cambridge," Jane revealed. "My parents; they couldn't afford it. Too much money for Tommy. Always in and out of juvie, needing lawyers or … rehab …."
Maura paused momentarily on the shoe she was loosening, suddenly aware of the detective's meaning. "Who's Tommy?"
"My little brother," she answered. "One of them."
"You have another?" Maura tried to change the subject.
Jane nodded. "Patrol officer. He's outside," she answered. "Don't tell him about this. He's probably already worried."
Maura proceeded to take off Jane's boots. When it came to her pants and belt however, the doctor stopped. "Can you take them off?"
"I shouldn't be here," Jane muttered. An unaware haze took over her brown stare. "I have a case."
"It's too late for that," Maura told her.
"But I have to protect her," Jane insisted. She leaned back on the couch cushions. "I already disappointed her."
"Disappointed who?"
"The doctor," Jane mumbled. She rested her head back, eyes suddenly heavy and glossed over with sleep. "The pretty one…"
Maura blushed, even though she was almost certain Jane wasn't aware of what she was saying. She watched as Jane managed a few blinks before her eyes nearly rolled back into her head. Her shoulders relaxed and in an instant the detective was unconscious. Maura watched her. It was the second night of her observing from a distance. A night before Jane was a patient, drawing the doctor in for more. And now she was here, on the woman's couch, pulling at her heart strings in the most unusual ways.
Without any thought against it, Maura reached out, slowly pulling a piece of Jane's sweaty hair back behind her ear. She frowned slightly. The attraction, whatever it was, seemed to grow stronger with each moment. An attraction wrong on several levels for the both of them. Jane was her patient. And Maura was Jane's charge. They were indebted to one another. And in her deepest thoughts, the ones she was currently trying to ignore, Maura knew it could only end badly.
Reviews appreciated! Thanks for reading ~ Sam