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April

Chapter Twenty-Two: Who Jane Really Is

"I would like to raise my glass to these two..." Korsak pointed out Jane and Frost with an obvious pride in his voice. "It's thanks to you that the BPD is what it is today... Brilliant, hardworking detectives. Congrats, guys!"

Jane shook her head – more embarrassed than anything – but timidly raised her glass as Maura and her colleagues did.

They cheered. It was a day of celebration, after all. She and Frost had solved the cold case they had been working on for the last few months. A stressing one considering media and politicians were closely following it as well. Exit the pressure of bringing results every day. They had succeeded in the most glorious way. Time to turn the page.

The evening at the Dirty Robber was thus more than deserved.

She brought the glass to her lips but froze as soon as she felt the beer brush her mouth. She put the drink down on the table right away and blankly stared at it. She couldn't do that. The insemination had taken place three days earlier. She couldn't drink alcohol now. Maura had assured her that this wasn't an issue – that an occasional glass was just fine – but now that she was in front of it, it was very different. She didn't want to touch it.

Perhaps she wasn't pregnant – she had to wait for a few days before buying a test – but what if she was? She couldn't be sure. The percentage of her chances were low enough for her to not make it worse.

Luckily, neither Korsak nor Frost seemed to notice her gesture. Both men were enthusiastically chatting, sharing their impressions over the last events of the day.

"The second round'll be on me!"

Alright. Jane made a face. Maybe they hadn't realized that she hadn't touched her first glass but this joyful spirit wouldn't be helping.

She couldn't drink as she usually did and yet she didn't want to get their curiosity piqued either; not as long as she didn't know whether her pregnancy test was positive.

Her eyes landed on Maura's. She discreetly motioned her beer and shrugged, implicitly asking her wife what she was supposed to do of it. Maura looked at the glass but didn't seem to understand. She frowned, blinked.

"Hey! Are you hungry? I'll go get the menus." Frost stood up and walked to the counter while some woman a bit further called Korsak's name out loud.

Jane watched her two colleagues go away and – once she was sure that it was safe enough – she bent over the table to talk to her wife.

"I can't drink that. It's a pint... A whole pint, Maura." Brief glance at Frost who was now talking to the waitress. "C'mon, drink it." She pushed the glass towards her wife.

"What?! You know that I don't like beer." The scientist looked at the drink and made a face. Why had Jane chosen this type of alcohol? It was her least favorite one. "Just have a few sips, it is okay."

Jane shook her head. Vehemently, stubbornly.

"I can't! It's psychological. I can't drink it. You gotta help me!" She tilted her head – locked her eyes with Maura's – and waited.

Puppy eyes mode: activated.

One. Two. Three.

And abdication. Maura loudly sighed then grabbed the glass. She looked at it hesitantly but gulped down half of the pint in one go nonetheless. Growl.

"Stick to water, next time. Or order a Merlot."

...

Margot went to sit down but when she realized that a chair was missing, she immediately motioned Jane to take the one that was available. The Italian rolled her eyes and held back a snarky comment.

This had to stop. She already had an overprotective wife at home - and at work - who made sure that she only walked around surrounded by bubble wrap paper.

She hadn't come to Cambridge to get the same ridiculous treatment.

Since when do you hold back your remarks, Rizzoli?

"I'm not dead yet, Margot. Damn. Maybe I'm not even pregnant."

The comment made the student laugh. She brought a second chair to their table and sat down. Her room was just as neat as the last time Jane had showed up unannounced. Jane found it a bit scaring. Weren't students supposed to be messy?

The smell's different though.

It didn't take Jane long to come to conclusions she would have preferred not to face. She frowned - looked all around - and finally stopped on Margot.

"You're smoking pot?"

"What?" Margot cast a confused glance at her room then shook her head at Jane. "No, I'm not. Why do you say that?"

"Because it smells." Jane sniffed again to make sure that she hadn't been wrong. "I swear it does..."

Margot burst out laughing. The scene was slightly incongruous. She raised her hands in a non-guilty way and shrugged.

"I promise you I don't touch these things. I only..." She turned her head around and stared at one of the windows that she had left open. She clapped her hands. "There you go. I'm on the first floor so maybe someone's smoking pot out in the garden."

Window closed. End of the story.

"Alright." Aware of her over-protective reaction, Jane forced a smile and nervously moved on her chair. "I'm sorry I didn't want to sound..." To sound what? Like her mother? "I started in the drug unit at the BPD. I saw some stuff... You're too bright to do these things. I don't want you to waste your life with it."

Margot swept away the worried comment with a gesture of the hand.

"Oh, don't be worried. I've never been into drugs. I only do guys." She paused and looked at Jane's incredulous face then burst out laughing. "I'm kidding."

Nervous laugh from Jane. She had been knowing Margot for a while now but she still had a hard time with her sense of humor. It was a bit too twisted for someone who lived with a very literal Maura.

"Well... I suppose if Maura was here, she'd tell you sex is healthier than pretty much everything so... Whatever."

Margot pouted. She had to admit that Jane was right on this point. If it had taken her aback the first time she had come to Boston, she was now doing okay with Maura's peculiar absence of any kind of boundaries regarding such matter.

"Alright. I didn't ask you to come here for that anyway." The French girl turned around and grabbed a notebook from her desk. Pencil in hand, she looked back at Jane and shyly smiled. "I signed in for some sociology classes this semester and I need to write an essay about a specific person who chose a not so... Random job...?" Margot's hesitation was palpable. She had a hard time finding her words and did not make eye contact with Jane anymore. Uncomfortable, she ended up clearing her voice and let a nervous laugh come out. "I chose you!"

"You think I'm not normal?"

Jeez. Calm down, Rizzoli. She chose you. Shouldn't you feel honored or something? C'mon, smile and apologize. You're way too susceptible lately. Freaking hormones!

"I mean... Wow." Alright, that was somehow better. "First of all, thank you for choosing me. I mean I guess...? Then..." She couldn't help it. "I have a question, though." Nope. She really couldn't help it. "I'm married to a 2.0 version of Dr. Frankenstein, the fashion week option. Why not choosing Maura? Why going for a detective when you can have the chief medical examiner of the state?"

Margot scribbled down something on her notebook. Jane squinted her eyes at it but didn't manage to read it. What had she said? Why had Margot written something down? It was sociology, not another Cailin's Guinea pig experience, right?

"Maura's job is extremely interesting – you're right on this point – but I'm more interested in your very own career. You chose a risky job, a tough one that can also be rewarding at times. You meet plenty of people – you see the worst of our society – and yet here you are, maybe carrying life in you right now. It's singular, in a good way. Hopeful."

For long seconds, Jane didn't move. She stared at Margot and let her words dance in her head, bump into each other trying to make sense. She was touched by the gesture and confused at the same time. It didn't make much sense to her.

"What did you write? I told you something and then you wrote something down. What was it?"

The question didn't seem to bother Margot the slightest bit. With all the confidence only a twenty-year-old could have, she locked her eyes with Jane's and replied.

"I wrote that you didn't seem to realize all the great things you're doing in your life. It's like you're unaware of all these accomplishments and only see them in others. You're humble, Jane. Maybe a tad much. You're an incredible person but it's like you don't know it."

A heavy silence followed Margot's answer; the kind that always carried a truth people had a hard time to face.

For whatever reason.

Aware that it was her turn to speak, Jane looked down – closed her eyes – and took a deep breath. Margot had taken her aback. One more time.

Sob.

"Don't write about the tears. It's freakin' hormonal and nothing else."

Oh... Who do you think you're fooling, Rizzoli?