AN - I'm getting egg threats, y'all. Egg threats. That's a little harsh. But...if that's the way you feel... Can I just say, for the record: I'm planning on a happy ending. Sorry this one is a bit discombobulated. Enjoy, nuggets.
Jane isn't fully aware of anything except for the pressure of Maura's hand in her own. She isn't really hearing the words leaving Dr. Wilde's mouth, isn't understanding the sentences he is spewing forth. Maura's soft spoken answers are like white noise somewhere beside her. All Jane can really focus on is the feeling of Maura's smooth palm against her own, rough, scarred one, the softness of her skin under Jane's thumb as she moves it back and forth. It's meant to be a soothing gesture, but Jane isn't sure who she is trying to reassure: herself, or the unnaturally reserved woman beside her.
Jane's first impression of Dr. Ryan Wilde had been positive. He was friendly, open, handsome, well-dressed. He came off as charming and kind, but not overly so. Maura had introduced them, not letting go of Jane's hand the entire time, even when Ryan had leaned in and kissed her on the cheek, then pointed them into the chairs in front of his desk.
She had followed the discussion at first, the pleasantries, the small catching up the two had done. And then she'd paid close attention as Maura had run through the list of her symptoms, sounding almost completely removed from the situation, almost clinical. Jane had heard the words leaving the ME's mouth, had matched up her vision of the blonde over the past few months with the picture Maura was painting, had discovered just how much she'd seen, and even more so, how much she had missed.
But, she'd pushed off the guilt for now, held it removed from herself. This was about Maura, not about Jane, or about her feelings, or their friendship, or their...whatever. And so she'd tried to remain steadfast, to focus instead on 's reaction to Maura's words. She'd tried to read him as she would a suspect, to glean whatever information she could out of his body language. But Ryan was a professional, she'd come to realize in the space of a few short minutes. He gave nothing away, merely listened with his head cocked slightly, interest and compassion in his eyes. Jane, who normally distrusted and disliked all medical professionals, really all new acquaintances, couldn't help respecting him.
She couldn't help liking him after he began his own line of probing questions. Couldn't help being grateful for the way he accepted Maura's faulty knowledge of a family history without batting an eye. Couldn't help but view him in a positive light as his own calm demeanor seemed to put Maura more at ease. Jane could tell by the way Maura's upright and perfect posture relaxed as the session continued, as her death grip on Jane's hand lessened, and her face became more open.
But after fifteen minutes of discussion between the two doctors in the room, Jane felt left behind, alone, cut adrift, Maura's hand the only thing tethering her to the ground at all. It was a strange feeling, to be so completely out of touch with a situation. At first, she'd fought it, attempted to remain present, but the medical terms being thrown around had confused her, wrapped her up into a maze of her own thoughts. Dr. Wilde had been too composed to simply begin throwing out potential diagnoses after only a few short minutes, but he and Maura had slipped into a discussion that was more Latin and Greek than English. They could have been speaking Chinese for all Jane knew.
And so, she doesn't feel fully present in the room. She isn't aware of anything except that she can't let go of Maura, can't stand to be separated from the smaller woman. She examines the doctor's hand via her fingertips, counting the bones, feeling both the smallness of the palm in her own, the frailty and fragility represented there, but also the strength, the dexterity of those long fingers, so perfect with a scalpel. She feels as though she is reading Maura's life in her hand, as a blind man reads braille.
As Jane focuses on the comfort of the contact, she realizes that she is giving it more thought than should be warranted, that she is coming to consider such an innocent gesture as something more...intimate. Something almost loving. A gesture that is coming to feel, to her at least, necessary, right, normal. And, it is in that moment that Jane realizes that she has been attempting for the past half an hour to pour as much affection, all of her - all of - all of her love into their connection as possible. She has been basically shouting her love, and Jane relaxes as she vocalizes the emotion to herself, to Maura ever since the ME grabbed her hand outside the doors to the hospital. Did Maura realize? Did she know? Jane looked over at the honey blonde, but she was still engaged in discussion with Dr. Wilde. Jane is merely a side note in the blonde's peripheral vision. Jane is not sure if Maura is even aware that the two are still holding hands. She is focused on Ryan, leaning forward slightly in her chair, her cheeks a bit flushed, her long hair wavy and cascading down her back. Jane wants nothing more than to lean forward and press her lips to Maura's cheek.
No! Suddenly, she is bolt upright in her chair, and her mind becomes clear and focused and she hears the rushing of the two doctors' words not as a stream somewhere off in the distance, but a torrent of water cascading over her. She is back, listening once again, channeling all her energy on the discussion, hoping neither noticed her absence. She needs to hear this, needs to know what is happening so that afterwards, when she and Maura return to the car, she can understand what has happened, can know how to react, can hide her love for the ME behind friendship and helpfulness. Jane looks once more down at their clasped hands and then quickly, like ripping off a bandaid, lets go and folds her hands in her lap, forcing herself not to rub her scars, but to sit still and silent, attentive.
Maura falters for a moment, trips over her words. She glances at Jane out of the corner of her eye, but the detective is sitting in her chair nonchalantly, as though she didn't just sever their connection in an abrupt and heart-stopping manner. Maura had noticed Jane's attention wandering, had felt the other woman's sharp brown eyes on her as she and Ryan had discussed her symptoms. She knew Jane wasn't following their discussion, but that was fine. Once they were finished here, Jane would ask questions and Maura would be able to fill her in. It was more that Jane was even there, was sitting beside her close enough for Maura to feel the warmth radiating off the detective. That was enough. It was Jane's presence that was keeping the ME so collected, so cool.
So, now that Jane has let go, removed herself from their contact, Maura stumbles. She'd felt it, hovering around her, something she was not yet ready to name. The feeling of holding Jane's hand, something she'd experienced before. They'd held hands before. Maura was one of the few people with permission to touch one of the most scarred parts of Jane's body. She knew and was extremely grateful for it, because Jane had lovely hands, strong and beautiful. It had become her habit to massage Jane's palms while they were watching a film or after an extremely stressful day. It was normal, when they were alone, for Maura to reach over and still any restlessness in Jane by simply taking the detective's hands in her own. The contact had become comforting for both of them.
But here they were. In public. Jane had held her hand through the lobby of the hospital, during the elevator ride up five floors, as they stood in front of the receptionist and waiting for Ryan to appear. Maura had expected the brunette to let go at some point, had almost resigned herself to the fact. But, then, they'd met Ryan, and Jane had held on throughout the introductions, had trailed along behind Maura down the white hallway, never letting go, had plopped herself down into the chair on Maura's right, remaining in contact the entire time. And Maura had been so grateful for it, had felt so much stronger and safer as she and Ryan exchanged pleasantries, launched into a medical discussion concerning, not a faceless patient, but herself.
Had Jane realized what was happening? Had she noticed the feeling surrounding them? Maura was certain it had just been her. That Jane had been holding on purely for the ME's benefit, had not felt it. It was something almost foreign to the medical examiner. Affection. Gratitude. Love. The love she'd been ignoring, been hiding from Jane, better even than she'd been hiding her headaches from the observant detective. And Maura was terrified that by pulling away so suddenly, Jane had felt it, had received the message Maura was subconsciously sending her way, and had been horrified, had needed to distance herself from the 'us' persona, the 'we' pronoun they had assumed since entering the hospital.
Perhaps not, Maura attempts to reprimand herself silently. She was jumping to conclusions, making assumptions. Guessing. And so, she continues with her statement, avoiding looking at Jane as much as possible, focusing instead on Ryan's nodding face, his understanding expression.
As they finish, Ryan nods decisively once more. "Well, I think you're right, Maura. We'll have to run some tests, take some blood. I can do the neurological exam right away, if you'd like. I think it might be best."
Maura nodded in agreement.
"If you want to just follow me? I believe we have an open exam room right down the hall."
Maura felt Jane jump slightly beside her when Ryan stood and Maura followed suit. She looked over at her ... friend. "You can wait here if you like, Jane. This shouldn't take more than thirty minutes. And then we can go."
Jane is looking at her searchingly. "Do you want me to come?"
"It's just a quick exam and some blood work. I'll be alright." Jane doesn't look convinced. Maura doesn't know how to convince her and Ryan is watching them from the doorway. The blonde wants to reach out and take Jane's hand again, feel Jane's reassuringly strong grasp, but she doesn't. "Thirty minutes," she says instead and follows Ryan out of the room.
Maura doesn't mind needles. She is a doctor after all, and so she hardly even registers the slight pressure of the needle as Ryan, himself takes her blood. A nurse could do it, Maura knows, but she's grateful Ryan has chosen to do it himself. It soothes her not to have to deal with an unfamiliar face. They run through the exam quickly, basically a series of reflex and vision tests. She's already given him a complete and exhaustive list of all of her symptoms and so Ryan knows what to look for in her responses. She is thankful for his professionalism. He really is one of the best. Maura knows what conclusions he can draw as they finish up. She is aware of all of the options, and is familiar with the possibilities he is conjuring up and testing for.
"I think we should run an MRI, Maura," he suggests, as he snaps off his gloves and tosses them into the trash can beside him. "You know I can't give you any answers yet, but it might be helpful in narrowing some things down," he is watching her closely. "I can't tell you anything definitively until after the results come back."
She meets his gaze squarely. "I know the probabilities, Ryan. But, can we perhaps wait on the scans? You'll have to schedule them of course and I don't want to keep Jane waiting any longer."
"It's better if we do it sooner, Maura."
"Yes, thank you," she regrets the iciness in her tone immediately, and tries to soften her body posture.
"Thank you so much for agreeing to meet with me, Ryan. I really do appreciate it. But it's Friday, and you'll have to send that blood work in to the lab over the weekend. Can we wait until that comes back?"
He nods slowly. "Alright."
Maura stands up from the examination table. "I really do appreciate your being so upfront with me, Ryan. You must know that."
"Of course. Anything I can do to help."
"Well, I'll go and collect Jane and then wait for your call."
He stands as well, the awkwardness filling the small room and Maura is annoyed with her own social anxiety. She was fine before, when Jane was beside her and she could merely list off her own symptoms systematically. But now that the neurological exam has been completed and Ryan is beginning to draw some conclusions, Maura can feel herself shutting down. She still doesn't want to know. Some unconscious part of her is screaming for the MRI now, immediately, so she can find an answer for her hypothesis, but the other part, the human, emotional part of her, is unnaturally terrified at what they will find. Maura wants one more weekend, perhaps one last weekend of her normal life. She wants to go and find Jane and then spend the weekend together, watching television and eating Rizzoli family dinner on Sunday. That's all she really wants.
"Maura," Dr. Wilde says softly, "I'll put a rush on it. And I'll call you myself with the results," he has put a hand on her arm, in what is meant to be a comforting manner, but all Maura knows is that it's not Jane's hand resting on her arm, and that it is therefore, wrong.
"Thank you." And then she is out the door, and heading towards his office, Ryan left to trail behind her. Jane jumps up immediately when Maura knocks and sticks her head inside.
"All done?" Jane asks neutrally as she walks towards the blonde and Maura nods.
The two women leave the office quietly, and take the elevator down to the main floor, six inches of space between them. Jane doesn't ask about the tests, doesn't ask for a synopsis, doesn't say anything. Maura knows she isn't pushing for a reason, that the detective feels awkward once more.
So, when they reach the car and it beeps twice to alert them that the doors have been unlocked, Maura doesn't say anything either, merely slides into the passenger side and waits for Jane to shift the car into drive. This time, she doesn't reach out to still the tapping of Jane's fingers on the gear shift, doesn't look over at the detective at all. Maura has, so far, received all of the results which she predicted. She still doesn't have an answer, but that will come with time, only a few short days away.
Jane parks the car in Maura's driveway and steps out. Maura is halfway up her walk before she realizes that the detective hasn't followed her. That Jane is still standing at the car, staring at the sidewalk. Maura turns around and retreats back down the way she's just come. She stands in front of the taller woman, waiting patiently until Jane looks up to meet her gaze.
"He ran a neurological exam and took some of my blood," Maura holds up her arm to show Jane where the needle entered and a bandaid now sits. "We'll have those results by Monday. He wanted to run brain scan, a Magnetic Resonance Imaging test, an MRI, but I asked that we wait."
"Why?" Jane's voice is gravelly after the long drive in silence.
Maura fidgets slightly and then forces herself to still. "We'll know more after the weekend. It gives him time to schedule me in without having to bump someone else, who may need it more, out of the way. And, and I..." she trails off, now unsure how to continue. But Jane is still watching her, so she takes a deep breath, "And I'm not entirely ready to know just yet," she manages a weak smile, one which the detective doesn't return. Maura can feel her smile wilting under Jane's blank gaze. "Jane? I'm very thankful to you for coming with me today."
Jane is still staring at her, but she responds. "Well I didn't really understand any of it."
"But I was grateful you were there," Maura insists. She reaches out to take Jane's hand, and immediately knows it was the wrong move, because Jane is out from between her and the car immediately and now there are several paces between the two.
Maura feels an ache in her chest. Jane is mad. And Maura doesn't know how to fix it. How to make it right.
"You're avoiding it. Still," Jane says quietly.
"I'm sorry," Maura responds, because what Jane has said is true. "Can we go inside? I'll make dinner."
But Jane is shaking her head. "You're avoiding it," she repeats. "And something is wrong with you. Seriously wrong with you, Maura."
"Jane," Maura can feel tears in her eyes. Jane is supposed to be supportive, not angry.
"I'm going for a walk," the detective swings around and starts off down the street and Maura is unsure whether she should follow. She watches Jane disappear around the block, still frozen in place. Her head is pounding. It's been a long afternoon. And now Jane has gone.
The doctor doesn't know what to do. She doesn't fully understand why Jane has stalked off, only that the detective is angry with her. And the aching in her head is getting worse. Maura knows she should feel...something, after watching Jane walk away, but all she feels is numb and exhausted. She lets herself into the house, and goes into the living room where she sits down on the couch. She feels numb. This morning, the anxiety about opening up to Jane, feels so long ago. The relief of describing her symptoms to Ryan, of having Jane at her side has disappeared. The anxiety of impending results is merely a whisper at the back of her mind. The confusion about Jane's reaction is swirling in her brain. Maura should feel something, she knows that. She wants to feel that safety again, like when Jane was holding her hand. She wants Jane to be sitting next to her, to be listening as Maura explains the events of the appointment, she wants Jane to hug her and then cavalierly suggest a movie marathon and a glass of wine, she wants to nap with Jane beside her. She wants so many things. She wants it to be alright, to not be a devastating event, for her to love the detective. She wants Jane to love her back. But right now, after this afternoon, all Maura feels is alone, the way she did all those months after Paddy Doyle was shot and after Maura had ruined things with Jane.
Maura feels the headache and exhaustion pulling her under and she hopes that Jane comes back, comes home. To her, Maura's home, but also to their home. And her last conscious thought is to wonder at when she started thinking of her home as Jane's and when they, separately, had become us, together.