Chapter 7. Enjoy!
The rest of the day seemed to pass in a blur for Maura. She went over Pike's work quickly, but didn't even attempt to engage the man in a conversation. She caught up on old paperwork, squinting to read the fine print through her headache. At five o'clock, a perfectly acceptable time to end the working day she reasoned with herself, she packed up her purse and headed for home.
After feeding Bass, Maura went upstairs and drew herself a bath. She knew that she would have to eat something at one point or another, but lately her appetite had been lacking. She knew the exact amount of nutrients her body should require for her weight and height every day, and she was aware that she had been missing the mark for the past few days, but food simply hadn't been high on her list of priorities lately. For now, all Maura wanted was to sink down into the soothing bath water and let her mind drift. But, as she lowered herself into the bath, leaning back against the towel she'd placed there, she found it difficult to keep her mind blank. She was a doctor, and yes, she did not usually practice on living patients; Jane was usually her only real patient, but she was a doctor, and an extremely intelligent one. And so Maura was well aware that her condition was becoming somewhat serious. The symptoms were altogether too persistent to be blamed completely on stress and emotional fatigue. Constant headaches, exhaustion, blurred vision, loss of appetite. It couldn't all be attributed to the added strain she had been under since the shooting. Maura preferred analytical reasoning over the hazy guesswork that one often encountered when attempting to determine one's emotions, and therefore, she did not often take the time to examine hers, but for once, she allowed her mind to hypothesize.
When it came right down to it, Maura realized, she missed Jane. The lanky detective knew how to make Maura laugh, she understood her, put up with Maura's incessant facts and google talk. Jane had taken on so much more than just being Maura's friend, she was also her confidante and protector. She had saved Maura from more things than the doctor cared to bring up: rude coworkers, Paddy Doyle, Charles Hoyt, Maura's own mother's inattentiveness.
The aloof doctor had never been one to appreciate hugs or obvious signs of affection. Her parents had never been good at displays such as goodnight kisses and hugs. She knew that Jane, too, was never one for physical contact. She'd watched Jane squirm out of Angela's embrace enough. But at that moment, Maura found that she desired a hug from the brunette more than anything else. She felt safe when Jane hugged her, warm, home. She positively ached to be in the detective's arms and feel that sense of security again.
Maybe it was odd that she missed Jane and her hugs so much. Maura had never had a fight with a best friend before; she had never had a best friend. She didn't know if this level of hurt and loneliness was normal and simply to be expected. Perhaps it was strange, but at that point Maura could care less. She just wanted her best friend back. She wanted to make Jane laugh and help her solve a case. She wanted to go out to the Robber with Jane and the guys for drinks. She wanted Jane to sit on her couch and explain the finer points of a Red Sox game to her, while Mrs. Rizzoli cooked Sunday dinner in her kitchen. She wanted to pull Jane out of bed on Saturday mornings for their run, and spend the day, just the two of them together. Together. And happy.
Tears were running down Maura's cheeks and she swiped them away angrily. Perhaps it was time to seek someone's advice. She didn't even know how to go about analyzing Jane's visit to the morgue earlier. Did that mean that Jane missed their friendship as much as Maura did?
A clanging noise from downstairs caused Maura to jump and splash some of the bathwater out onto the floor. She realized that the water had become tepid and that she was beginning to shiver, her body's attempt to generate heat. How long had she been lost in her thoughts?
Stepping out of the bath, Maura wrapped a robe around herself, pulled the plug and watched the water drain away, then headed downstairs to investigate the source of the noise. She gripped the railing tightly, actually using it for support, leaning her weight on the wood heavily as she walked down the carpeted stairs. The bath had relaxed her muscles and relieved some of the tension in her head, but she was now feeling the exhaustion setting in. Her head, instead of feeling like a pressurized drum, simply felt...fuzzy, not an adjective Maura would have picked but she knew Jane would have approved.
"Maura, honey, did I wake you?" Angela Rizzoli was standing at the bottom of the stairs, oven mitt on and pan in hand. "I'm sorry. I thought I'd just pop over and make you some soup," she smiled hopefully at the doctor.
Maura shook her head as she gained the ground floor, "Oh, Angela, you don't have to."
Angela led the way into the kitchen, picking up where she had left off at the cutting board. Maura eased herself onto one of the chairs at the island. The older woman looked so comfortable in Maura's kitchen, it was as if she had been cooking there her entire life. Maura was aware that Angela had taken it upon herself to rearrange the ME's kitchen, going so far as to label everything. She probably knew where things were better than she herself did, Maura mused.
"Maura?" the matriarch had paused in her chopping.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Angela. You really don't have to make me dinner."
"I know that, but I thought a good home-cooked Rizzoli meal would make you feel better!"
Maura smiled slightly as the mother slipped easily into her over-protective, mother hen role. She knew once the woman was started, it would be almost impossible to get a word in edgewise. Maura tried to interrupt before she could really get into the flow, "Angela, please. I'm not that hungry and I don't want to be an inconvenien-"
"Quiet, you!" Mrs. Rizzoli chided gently. "My real children won't let me cook for them, so it's the least I can do. Besides," she gave Maura a piercing look, "Janie was right. You're looking too worn out for your own good. A nice meal will set you straight. Mhmm." she began stirring a boiling substance with self-satisfied vigor.
"Jane said?" Maura couldn't help asking.
Mrs. Rizzoli stopped her bustling and came to a sudden halt. She came out from behind the island and circled around to Maura. "Now honey," she began, "you know I love you like my own child, and it hurts me to see the two of you so hurt and angry with each other. It's wearing on Jane, not being able to talk to her best friend. She misses you," with a pleading look, Angela took Maura's hand in her own. "It would make you both feel so much better to just set this all to rights."
Maura gently extricated her hand from the other woman's grasp. "I don't know, Angela," she couldn't meet the piercing gaze of the Rizzoli mother. "I sincerely doubt Jane will ever want to be my friend again, not after the way I've treated her."
"That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard!" Angela threw her hands into the air. "Jane misses you like crazy, and it's obvious you miss her, too. You are both just too stubborn for your own good," this last was mumbled as Angela turned back to her soup.
Maura sighed. She hated to disappoint the older woman. Angela had become something of a surrogate mother for the lonely doctor. Maybe Jane would forgive her. They had to sit down and talk about this. Maura knew that was the only way it would get fixed. But getting Jane Rizzoli to sit down and discuss her "feelings" was easier said than done.
The fuzzy feeling from her bath was gone, and a pounding behind her temples was taking its place. "Angela," Maura asked, "would you mind terribly if I rested until the soup is finished?"
"Of course not, dear. It shouldn't be too much longer."
"It smells delicious," Maura supplied as she stood up carefully. "Thank you," she attempted to put all of the gratitude she could muster into the words. She really was grateful to Angela. She hadn't once backed away from Maura, even though the doctor wouldn't have blamed her for taking her daughter's side.
"Anytime," Angela smiled at her lovingly. "I'll call you when it's ready."
Maura nodded and headed back upstairs. She sighed in appreciation as she lay down on top of her comforter. She hadn't planned on falling asleep, but she lost consciousness almost as soon as her head hit the pillow.
Angela watched Maura walk from the room. The doctor did not move with the graceful elegance she usually possessed. Instead she seemed hunched as if her shoulders were heavy, her head was bowed as if tired from holding up a great weight. "Janie was right," she mumbled to herself. "Hmph."
When she knocked lightly on Maura's bedroom door not fifteen minutes later, bearing a tray of her famous, homemade Rizzoli chicken noodle soup, there was no response. She peaked inside. The ME looked peacefully exhausted and Angela decided she needed sleep more than soup. She set down the tray and grabbed up one of the extra blankets, laying it gently over the sleeping form. "You're my daughter, too," she whispered lovingly. She shut the light off on her way out. Angela stored the soup in the refrigerator, cleaned up the rest of the kitchen, and quietly left for the guest house. It was time to call Jane.