Welp, here's chapter 3. I'm trying to move it along folks. Sorry if it seems too slow. Let me know what y'all think.
Jane punched the elevator button fiercely, bouncing on the balls of her feet in impatience. "C'mon, c'mon," she murmured under her breath. She felt on edge and angry for reasons she couldn't explain. Maybe she should have just taken the stairs. Just as she was about to spin around and head for them, the bell dinged and the doors opened.
Once back up in the bullpen, Jane sat down at her desk and opened the file Maura had given her. She attempted to focus, but her mind was going a mile a minute. Instead, the detective hopped out of her chair and threw the file onto Frost's desk. He looked up at her in surprise. "Maura's preliminary findings," she said, by way of explanation. "I'm going for a walk." Frost didn't have time to respond and could only stare at her as she wrenched her jacket off the back of her chair and stalked away.
For the past three months, Jane had run the gamut of the emotional spectrum: fear, guilt, hurt, sadness, and, finally, anger. When Jane first came to realize exactly how furious she was at Maura for putting her in such a terrible situation, as irrational as that anger might have been, she clung to it. The anger was better than the hurt she felt whenever she realized how far apart she and her friend had drifted, how alone she was now that Maura refused to talk to her. It wasn't that Jane was only angry with Maura, she was plenty mad at Dean and Doyle, too. And at herself. Perhaps she was more upset with herself than anything, but Maura was the one who, in Jane's mind demanded the brunt of the anger. This situation that they were in was now resoundingly Maura's doing. Jane had apologized, she'd begged, and pleaded. Jane Rizzoli, tougher than any of the guys, had actually begged Maura to forgive her. But the ME had remained impassive to all of Jane's attempts. So now Jane was furious and she took that anger with her everywhere: home, work, out in the field.
Jane kicked at the sidewalk, too frustrated to pay much attention to where she was heading, just needing to let off some steam. Jane had come to appreciate her anger, it was her defense system. But after that weird encounter with the doctor, Jane had to admit that her anger was tempered somewhat by confusion and, loathe as she was to acknowledge it, concern. What had just happened?
She'd never seen Maura act so strangely or show such vulnerability, especially at work. Maura was tough. She'd been through hostage situations and kidnappings and she'd watched her best friend shoot herself to kill a dirty cop. She'd survived learning that her biological father was the most infamous mob boss to ever grace the streets of Boston and multiple encounters with Hoyt. Hell, before all that, Maura'd basically raised herself, putting up with absent parents and people who refused to take the time to get to know and appreciate her for who she was, rather than how smart she might be. So the fact that Jane had walked in on Maura asleep in her office, and that the doctor had seemed so worn down, didn't just concern the detective, it worried her to no end. That worry just made Jane more angry because she had no idea how to approach Maura again to find out what was wrong.
"Dammit," Jane whispered suddenly. "Dammit, dammit, dammit!"
Suddenly, she stopped, spun on her heel, and headed back towards the station. Jane hated having to ask for help, especially from her own overbearing, gossiping mother, but Angela Rizzoli loved Maura like a second daughter. She was still living in the ME's guest house for goodness' sake. If anyone could sneak past Maura's defenses and find out what was going on, it would be Jane's mother.
Maura left the morgue soon after speaking to Jane. She could hardly keep herself upright at her desk her head was aching so badly, and Jane was correct: if she couldn't focus properly on her work, she shouldn't be there. She told her assistant to contact Dr. Pike if anything came up between then and the following morning. Maybe she would feel better by tomorrow. Maura grimaced. Perhaps.
She seemed to make the drive home on autopilot. She knew that it was not safe to drive if she was so unfocused on the road, but she couldn't manage to concentrate on anything besides the conversation with Jane. Maura kept replaying their words back through her mind, attempting to use her understanding of facial expressions to discern what Jane had been thinking. But the detective had always been difficult for Maura to read, even when they were spending most of their time together. Jane just knew how to keep her face blank, a skill she'd picked up after more than a few nasty interrogations.
Maura wished she could simply ask the detective what she had been thinking, but that would entail calling or texting the other woman, which would mean crossing the invisible boundary the two had erected around their friendship. Maura rubbed her face with her palm angrily. If only this stupid headache would go away and leave her free to contemplate her thoughts in peace. She knew it was silly to simply wish away a discomfort, but the pounding in her temples was not making focusing an easy task.
When she walked through the front door, everything was quiet. Maura found Bass sitting in the living room, washed off several Peruvian lettuces leaves, and set them next to his still form. She slipped off her heels and sat down on the couch next to where the tortoise was resting on the floor. She needed to get up and change her clothes so her dress wouldn't wrinkle, but she was too tired to move.
"What do you think I should do, Bass?" Maura asked, stroking his shell gently. Jane was usually the one who attempted to talk to the tortoise. Maura smiled fondly when she remembered how the detective refused to acknowledge Bass as anything other than "the turtle." She missed having Jane around; the house seemed silent and empty without her and the rest of the Rizzoli's around, eating family dinner or watching baseball and yelling at the television.
Maura pulled her legs up to her side and rested her head on the arm of the couch. "What are we going to do, Bass?" she asked again. Maura hadn't had a lot of experience with best friends and how to go about apologizing after a fight. Although she had read heavily on the subject in the past few weeks, words in print never seemed to carry over exactly into the real word, especially not when heated emotions got involved. One of the reasons Maura had become a medical examiner in the first place was to avoid all of the human sentiment that came into play when one was forced to work with live patients.
She had always been the odd one out and a bit of a loner, and she honestly hadn't minded. At least not until Jane made Maura realize just how wonderful it could be to have a friend. How nice it was to have someone who cared and wouldn't leave just because Maura said or did something socially awkward. Jane made Maura feel protected and loved and appreciated, all things she had struggled to find her entire life. Jane taught Maura what it was like to be a best friend and now that they weren't speaking, Maura didn't know what to do with herself.
When she realized that she was thinking in circles, Maura sighed. She needed to get up and change her clothes. There was a documentary from the History Channel she had recorded and been meaning to watch, now was as good a time as any. But, when she went to sit, and felt just how tired she actually was, the doctor sank back down into the couch cushions. She was exhausted. Before she could even reach for the throw blanket on the back of the couch, the ME was asleep.