A/N: Many of you got (heart)sick of mauras games and, I just want to say, well, Jane felt the same. So seeing as you were put in Jane's POV, I guess it worked, trying to portray her state of mind. I am sorry to make you feel that way though :/
I shall make one more note, it might be kind of a buzz-killer or a spoiler or something, but you should know: I always write endgame Rizzles (well, so far and including this, I can't talk about future stuff), so no reasons to worry.
"Hey Frost, you working today?"
"I'm on call, but I'm free right now. What's up?"
"Pool?"
"Half an hour."
"See you there."
Settled.
You don't really pay attention to the game. It's not that you're out of your best or that you're failing. You do some like a pro and some like you've never touched a cue before. But you're not feeling it. Your heart is not into it.
The place is empty as it's barely noon and the atmosphere soothes you. There's some jolly pop music coming from the radio that you don't pay attention to, and when Frost sees you're "out", he leaves you alone, not forcing a conversation.
Your head is messing with you. In your mind, you see them on her bed. Closer than ever, with their torsos merged together. You can't shake off the image of his hand roaming her back, the other moving her silky hair aside to make way for his lips, that are now marking the curve on the right of her neck. Chills pass through your body and your ribs tighten around your chest. Breathe. Breathe, Jane. You hadn't realized you had spread your nostrils, in a desperate subconscious try to ease your attempts at recovering proper respiration. Or was it a pure display of rage? Straining of your facial muscles synced with the angry tightening of your fist around the smooth surface of the cue in your hand. The room goes cold and silent. You strike the cue ball with such force, it jumps off the table. You snap back to reality as it hits the floor, hard and loud.
"Damn, Rizzoli." Frost looks both amused and surprised. Maybe a hint of scared.
You want to punch something. You want to kill someone. You want to yell.
You want to hurt and watch the pain. You want to scream, and to hear your name screamed in a cry for mercy.
Where is all this rage spawning from?
Like last night when you were walking up to the door and crossed ways with the creepy man walking slowly in the darkness of the late night hours. When you wanted him to cause trouble, try to steal or attack or something. Needed him to try, just so you have a reason and an excuse for making someone bleed.
And yet you stay silent, because at that moment, you feel powerless. Ultimately powerless.
"Hey, where have you been all day?" Her voice from the other side of the line stirs undefined reactions through your mind. There's a little bit of annoyance, a pinch of satisfaction and a hint of anger.
"All day? It's barely after noon, Maura."
"You weren't answering your phone."
"Yeah, I forgot that at home, went to play pool with Frost."
"Wow, waking up early on a Sunday."
"Yep."
Your tone seems too flat and fake. Both sides are aware of it. Silence.
"You said you'd call in the morning."
"Yes."
"But you didn't."
"I didn't wanna wake Bran up..."
"What? Jane..."
"...Or disrupt any of your morning activities." You sneer before she has the time to finish what she was saying.
"Jane I didn't sleep with Bran!"
Oh.
"Really?" You almost stammer.
"Really."
"How so?" You've kinda not even considered the option that she didn't take him home.
"So. I just didn't."
You don't want to admit that this pleases you, so you're glad you're on the phone and she can't see the stupid smirk you're unsuccessful suppressing.
She breaks the new silence and the mood instantly rises.
"Let's go to that fair we talked about. It's kind of the last day to do it since you're travelling tomorrow."
A month of training rookies. You're not sure why you took the job. Maybe it was to take a break from the constant and tiring struggling with cases. Maybe it was to clear your head from everything that was happening in Boston. Clear your head from Maura, even. Or to basically try something new. The reasons don't matter because tomorrow night you'd be flying, a fact which has evaded your head for the past day and a half.
"Sure."
It's not too cold for walking outside but it's cold enough for her to slip her arm through yours and virtually cuddle into it as you're walking along with the tide of people. Usually, you hate slow-walkers. Right now there is no destination or rush, and you're just letting your head swim in the cheerful music and the tens of smells and scents from the different food stalls at the fair.
You've never heard Maura speak of religion before, except from a fully sociological or scientific point of view, so you're rather shocked when she pulls you towards the entrance of the cathedral nearby.
"I wanna see what's it like inside."
You see absolutely no reason to counter this so you join the line that is quietly walking into the building and while she's observing the carvings and frescoes and art and who knows what, you are hit by the atmosphere in the place. Jane Rizzoli, as far as anyone from your family is concerned, you're going straight to hell. And not even second circle as Dante said, for those sinning due their lust. You're going down to the ultimate circle, closest to the devil. You look around and you try to remind yourself that you're not doing something wrong, that it's not sinful, that it's only the propaganda that condemns you.
Even for yourself, you use the same methods of persuasion you always use: logic. It's like when you're told to treat your body as a temple and you say that hedonistic enjoyment of sex counts as giving that temple a pleasurable treat.
These thoughts are suddenly too much for your head to handle, so you try to follow what Maura does. She points to something on the side she wants to check out. The passing space allows one person only, and you go through first, when you feel her gloved hand slip through your palm and grab it. It's warm and comfortable. Then too comfortable. Then too warm. It has barely been a second and you feel your chest clog up and you can't breathe. All of the eyes on all of the faces on all of the heads on all of the bodies in every spot around you are pointed at your hands. No they aren't, but you're suffocating as if they were.
"I don't think that's appropriate." you whisper, slithering your hand out and grasping her forearm instead as you navigate through the people going in the opposite direction.
"Okay." She doesn't say anything else. Being in front, you can't see her reaction. You can't help but analyze the tone. Was it a complaining "okay"? A conforming one? An indifferent one?
You decide it was a compliant "okay" with a careless laughing undertone.
Oh fucking stop. What are you, literature major? Ok class, what did the fucking author mean when he said... UGH, Rizzoli! SHUT UP.
But your brain doesn't.
It works full speed.
When you get out of the cathedral she's on a roll, ranting some random information related to some random art form through some random time in history. You descend the stairs, looking through the people below busying around like bees in a hive. Then you turn to her, and suddenly it's as if they don't exist. The Earth stops turning, the clocks stop ticking and your heart probably stills too.
She's still talking about mister someone of somewhere when you stop thinking about the eyes on you and take her hand. Her fingers sync with yours as you intertwine them and you don't wanna meet her eyes because she will see the cheery proud glint in yours and how you are completely and totally blushing and how you would have never ever done that in public but now you don't give a damn and it feels good. It feels free.
Your gait gains confidence and you lead her through the people. The people that are here to fill the background of the story of your life. The side characters, the plot devices, the people that don't have a say. The people that don't matter.
But she does.
She means everything.
A/N: IRL Maura, I can't accent this enough, when you read this, keep in mind they are still different characters, please, please please please... :)
Oh, and don't forget to review :)
Ina
p.s. m rating returns in ch 7