It's a bit shorter than usual, but I think y'all will be pleased...
"Shit. Shit. Shit." Jane glanced once more at the clock before flipping the engine off. 6:22 stared tauntingly back at her. She was so late. Ridiculously late. Her mother was going to kill her. If Maura didn't do it first. The ME had a thing about being on time. Punctuality. Jane scoffed to herself as she stepped out onto the asphalt and headed for the front door. Who could seriously be on schedule all the time? It was absurd.
She swung her head around to check the street just as she reached the front steps. Frankie's cruiser was parked across from the driveway, Tommy's old beater behind it. Shit. So late. Heaving a sigh, she straightened her spine. If she was going to get her ass handed to her by the two women, the least she could do was take it with a bit of backbone. And she was going to get yelled at. She always did.
She growled to herself, pausing with her hand on the knob. It wasn't her fault that she was late. Cavenaugh may have told Maura that it was totally cool for Jane to take three half days a week for a month in a row, but what that really translated to was 16 days straight when Maura was on her two week "break" period. Ten days into it, with two open cases, she was dragging. She tried to remember what she'd eaten that day, but all her mind could come up with was 4 cups of coffee - black - and a stale donut out of Korsak's stash in his desk. Her stomach grumbled at the reminder. Might as well face the firing squad. She took one last deep breath and opened the door.
Immediately, she was hit in the face by the most delicious smells emanating from the kitchen, quickly followed by her mother's voice screeching from an unseen location, "Jane Clementine Rizzoli!"
Shit. So late.
"You better have a good reason for being two hours late, young lady."
Jane hadn't been a 'young lady' for fifteen years. She rolled her eyes as she kicked off her boots and then bent to put them neatly in the hall closet. Unclipping her badge, she slid it, and her gun into the drawer and then followed the smells and the yelling.
"Jesus, Ma, I'm only," she looked over at the clock on the oven, and decided it was better not to complete that statement.
"You could have called," her mother was annoyed.
"Sorry," Jane mumbled, glancing at her brothers who were both seated at the island counter. They were smirking at her. She wanted to punch them.
"Well," Angela finally turned from her spot at the stove and gave her daughter a quick look up and down. "Are Barry and Vince with you?"
"Ten minutes behind me," Jane was quick to answer, trying for a properly apologetic expression.
"Hmph," the older woman turned back to her pots and pans and stirred something. "Good then."
"Beer, Janie?" Frankie asked, standing.
"Please," it was almost a prayer.
She took the one he got from the fridge gratefully, but before she could open it, she realized someone was missing. "Where's Maura?"
Maura had had a rough go of it the past few days. The blonde was still trying to transition from being the chief medical examiner for the entire state of Massachusetts to a stay at home grown adult with a serious illness. She refused to use the term invalid, and Jane had agreed. She wasn't an invalid. She was strong and tough and she refused to give in. But it had been challenging for her to watch Jane leave for the brick every morning and not be going, too. Jane knew she'd been trying to keep busy, working with the governor to find a more suitable temporary replacement, reading up on gliomas. Trying to memorize all of Angela Rizzoli's recipes. But Jane also knew that it wasn't easy for her. She tired easily. Her headaches seemed to have gotten worse, and she struggled simply going up and down the stairs. It was ridiculous how quickly her body had weakened under the attack of the cancerous cells. Ridiculous and terrifying.
The detective had stopped her daily runs for several days because she felt bad about participating in such a lively and energetic act of exercise. Maura had not been pleased when she'd finally figured out. She'd insisted that Jane continue them, whether in the morning or on the brunette's lunch break. And Jane had to admit that it did feel good to get out and burn off some of the stress and tension that built up throughout the day. Running, although something she'd always professed to hate, was quickly becoming her salvation. Maura swore by her yoga and deep meditation breathing and whatnot, but Jane preferred the pounding of her feet against the pavement, the monotony and near agony of a long run serving to drive any conscious thought clean out of her head. So, she held onto the routine, even if she felt guilty afterwards, thinking of Maura tiring after simply showering and making breakfast.
"She went upstairs to freshen up," her mother's voice jerked her back to the present. "But, that was awhile ago," Angela looked dubiously towards the staircase.
"Almost an hour," Tommy observed.
Jane frowned. "I'll be right back then," she set the untouched beverage onto the counter.
"Dinner as soon as Barry and Sergeant Korsak get here!" her mother yelled at her retreating figure and Jane nodded to show her understanding.
Throughout the past ten days, they'd tried to find some sort of balance. Jane would get up early to run, go to work, chase down the bad guys, while Maura worked from home. The detective would try to scoot out as early as possible everyday in order to make it home in time for dinner, but more often than not, Maura would be forced to keep something warm for her. Then, they'd spend the evening chatting, watching a movie, cuddling. It was domestic. If anyone would have told Jane Rizzoli that she'd be settled down, for all intents and purposes playing house by the time October rolled around, she would have scoffed at them, or hit them. It was never a role she'd seen for herself.
Her mother had tried foisting men on her for years and years, but she'd always found something wrong with them or lacking. They'd either want her to hang her handcuffs up for good, "take less risks," be home to put dinner on the table and clean the house and pop out a couple of kids. Which was not in her plan. Or else they wanted her to use her cuffs...on them. After awhile she'd simply accepted the fact that her mother's dreams of a white wedding and grandchildren would never reach the actual physical stage. And she'd been fine with that.
Gabriel Dean had thrown a bit of a monkey wrench into her acceptance. She'd almost thought, for one minute, that he was different, that there might be a future with him. But then the warehouse happened and that relationship went up in flames, too.
With Maura though, it was different. Even now that Maura wasn't working, Jane didn't think of them as anything less than equals. They were both strong, independent women, and it worked for them. Maura accepted the dangers of Jane's job. She never asked (or ordered) the detective to stay out of the line of fire, simply to take care. She accepted Jane's flaws. Her overbearing and loud nature, her energy, her temper. She had a way of smoothing out the brunette's rough edges with Jane even being aware that it was happening until after she'd already changed.
Jane found herself going a bit soft around the doctor; her mother would classify it as 'lovey-dovey' if she knew. The woman seemed to have some sort of crazy calming effect on her. For example, the amount of time she spent thinking about Maura, texting her, thinking about texting her was insane. She'd gotten so used to spending all day with Maura, or at least close enough that the doctor was only an elevator ride away, that knowing the ME wasn't just down in the morgue made the building seem almost empty. She'd felt kind of pathetic about it at first, like some sort of crazy, overdramatic, lov-well, not that word - teenager who couldn't handle to be separated from her girlfriend for a few measly hours a day. But when she realized that Maura was just as happy to see her in the evenings as she was to get home, that the doctor's text messages were quite a bit longer and more detailed than they used to be, that neither one of them minded curling up on the couch, forgotten movie providing background noise while they took the time to reacquaint themselves with one another's faces and lips and bone structure, she stopped feeling lame. Instead, she tried to enjoy it. She was falling in love. She was in love. And she was going to soak it all in if it killed her.
Part of why she was so nervous to let others know about their blossoming relationship was because she was afraid they would pick up on some of her new mannerisms. She didn't want to be the fluttery girl in love for the first time, but it was becoming more and more difficult to stifle her need to shout her love for Maura from the rooftops. Frost had caught her giggling over a text more than once, and she'd had to forcefully remove the exaggerated grin from her face when Maura had her favorite lunch delivered as a surprise. She was a teenager, head over heels in love, as much as she tried to ignore the existence of that four letter word. And she secretly adored it.
So, she allowed herself the joy of reveling in Maura's undivided attention in the evenings, and tried not to think about the daylight hours when she was separated from the honey blonde. The doctor would ask about her day, and Jane would bring her up to speed, trying to recall all of the minuscule details, and of course whatever idiotic thing Pike had spouted that afternoon. Usually, Maura fell asleep early, laying on the couch, spooned against the brunette's firm frame. Jane would carry her to bed, and that would be that, until the next morning, when they'd do it all again.
Jane bounded up the stairs, taking them two at a time, thinking back on the past few days, how their relationship was growing, strengthening. She felt safe with Maura. Secure. Something she'd never had in any of her previous relationships. A new role she had adopted.
As her foot hit the landing, she began to puzzle out why Maura had been upstairs for over an hour. Freshen up? Since when did Maura take such a long time to get ready for Sunday dinner. Sure, she could be a bit of a stickler when it came to her appearance, but an hour? Just for the family? Jane was skeptical. Even a tiny bit worried. The little thread of anxiety pushed her towards the master bedroom and attached bath that much more quickly. If anything had been wrong, Maura would have called out, she would have texted Jane to come home early. Wouldn't she've?
Jane blew through the door. No one in the bedroom. Closet light was off. So the blonde wasn't engaged in one of her ridiculously long, thought out wardrobe changes. Shrugging out of her own jacket, the detective headed towards the bathroom, where a thin bar of light was glowing from beneath the door.
"Maura?" She knocked softly. No answer. "Maur, can I come in?"
Still no response, but she heard a slight sniffling sound, so she turned the knob and stepped in. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of Maura sitting on the edge of the tub, dressed in yoga pants and a loose fitting white t-shirt, a brush in one hand, the other clasping something she couldn't make out. The honey blonde had tears running down her face. She looked skinny and tired and small. She was lovely.
Maura rubbed at her face quickly and looked up at Jane. She gave a light laugh, but choked off the end of it. Jane didn't move any closer. She waited.
The other woman held up her hand, and Jane saw what it was she was clutching. Hair. Beautiful golden strands.
"I knew it was a possibility," Maura said, her voice husky from crying, staring down at the tiled floor. "I just didn't realize how melancholy it would make me. I wasn't amply prepared. They say it can be one of the most challenging hurdles."
"Maur," Jane whispered. The doctor's voice sounded colder than usual. Clinical.
"A common side effect of course. One I should be able to handle without crying. But, I guess not!" She shrugged her shoulders regretfully and glanced up Jane at again. "Whoops."
If Jane didn't know any better, she might think Maura was drunk. "I'm sorry," she tried for lack of anything else to say.
"Oh god," and Maura leaned over, wrapping her arms around herself. "You must think I'm pathetic."
Jane shook her head no, but the doctor wasn't looking at her.
"I'm sorry you have to deal with this. With me," Maura bit off. It's the first time she's showed any anger over her situation, any disgust. Jane is almost relieved. Maura's simply acceptance has been infuriating.
"No," Jane is firm.
"Crying over some dead cells. That's all hair is, you know! Dead cells," the blonde's voice is getting louder, tinged with a hint of hysteria. Jane wants to go to her, to hold her close, but she can't move. "I'm pathetic."
"No," louder this time.
"You must hate me."
Jane rolls her shoulders back in defiance. Maura is wrong. She's so incorrect. She doesn't even see how perfect she is, even now, red faced from crying, angry with herself, shattered. "I don't hate you," but it's so soft, she isn't sure Maura's heard. "I don't hate you," she repeated, making sure the words carried across the expanse of the room.
Maura looked up at that. She tilted her head to the side as if to determine if Jane was telling the truth. "You don't?"
"I-I," Oh, God. Maura's hazel eyes were shiny with unshed tears, her lips were trembling slightly. Jane couldn't stand it. She can't - "I love you." It's fast, hurried, nearly apologetic. Jane wanted to clap her hand over her fool mouth as soon as the words left her lips, but instead she stood stock still, staring at the smaller woman. "I love you," she said again. But Maura was shaking her head now, shaking her head no. "I love you," Jane took a step forward. "You're beautiful, and I love you." It's like vomit. She can't control it.
"You can't. You can't," Maura denied fiercely.
"I do," and Jane can feel herself grinning.
"Take it back," the doctor ordered.
Jane took another step forward, another, gliding across the floor until she was looking down at the hunched form of the doctor. She needed Maura to understand. She needed her to accept it. She didn't even care that the doctor hadn't said it back yet. She was glowing. Finally. Finally! She'd never been so sure of anything in her life. She wanted to laugh out loud at how easy it was. She'd been agonizing over something that was the simplest thing in the world for far too long. "I love you, Maura Isles. I won't take it back."
"You can't l-lo-love me," she tripped over the word. "I'm sick."
Jane shrugged. "So. I love you."
"It's a phase, an emotional reaction to the stress you've been under."
Jane wanted to laugh. How was Maura not getting this? "No."
"You can't because I-I-I'm unlovable!"
Jane nearly cried out at the words. She bent her knees so she was crouching in front of the blonde. She took the hair brush and set it on the floor, then she wrapped Maura's small hands in her own. "No," she repeated gently. "I love you."
"Jane," it was a breath.
"You don't have to say it back, not if you don't want to, but you do need to understand. I love you. You are lovable. You are wonderful and strong, and I love you. And I will continue to love even if all your hair falls out and you are bald. I will still love you." She brushed a strand of blonde curl off of Maura's cheek. "I love you." She leaned forward and pressed a light kiss to the ME's pink lips.
Maura didn't speak, and Jane could feel her heart expanding with all the love she was feeling. She could count on one hand the number of times she'd told someone who was not family that she loved them. And she'd never been the first in a relationship. She wanted Maura to respond in kind, she ached to hear those words fall from the doctor's mouth, but it wouldn't change anything. "I love you." She couldn't take it back, couldn't erase it. The truth was out there. The truth will set you free. Someone had said that, someone famous, someone wise. She felt free. God, she felt like she was flying.
Maura was staring at her, trying to read whatever was written across her face. Jane waited patiently. "It's not an emotional reaction?"
Jane did let out a snort of laughter then. "Definately not."
"You're sure?" The innocence of the question, the heartbreak, the hope would have killed her right then and there if she wasn't a hundred miles off the ground.
"I have never, never been more terrified, or more sure of anything in my entire life." She smiled at the other woman and gave her cold hands a squeeze.
"You love me?"
"I do."
"Oh good," Maura finally breathed out, and Jane felt curiosity flicker across her face. "Because I love you, too. And I was afraid to say something, Jane. I didn't want to scare you off. I know how you are with your relationships." She was rambling. "And I was afraid it was because of the tumor, or that you were simply confused or-"
Jane kissed her. She kissed her deeply. Satisfactorily. Thankfully. When she opened her eyes again, Maura's hazel ones were shining back at her. The doctor wrapped her arms around Jane's strong shoulders and the detective stood, taking Maura with her, a hand under the doctor's legs, carrying her like a child. She walked them into the bedroom, where she laid Maura gently on the bed, climbing up after and sliding herself alongside the blonde. She pushed a hand under the other woman's shirt, resting it on Maura's warm stomach, and kissed her cheek, her ear, her nose, her mouth. "I love you. I love you. I love you," it was a mantra. A prayer. A promise.
Maura wound her hands in Jane's thick, dark curls. "I love you. I love you. I love you," it was an answer. A hope. A promise.
Jane shivered at Maura's touch, a finger tip trailing down the back of her neck, the presence of a leg pressed against her center, a warming core, her rapid heartbeat. She nuzzled into the blonde's neck, sucking gently at Maura's pulse point, loving the way Maura responded to her caress, tensing, relaxing. She wanted to show the other woman how serious she was, to make Maura understand how deeply her love ran. She needed the honey blonde. She needed her. "I love you."
"Oh, god, Jane," Maura moaned.
Jane's entire body felt as if it was on fire. She slipped her other hand beneath the smaller woman's shirt and -
A loud knock erupted from the door. "Girls? Dinner!" her mother called gaily.
"Shit," Jane nearly squealed, removing her hands immediately. Maura hissed in displeasure. "Shit, shit, shit."
Maura shushed her by taking the detective's lips in her own, pressing her tongue into Jane's mouth, biting gently on Jane's lower lip and then sucking away the pain. "I love you," she murmured.
"I love you, too," Jane responded, pouting when Maura pushed her off and swung into a sitting position. She kissed the doctor's neck sloppily, and Maura giggled and pulled away.
"Go downstairs," the doctor ordered. "I just need to change and then I'll be down."
Now Jane really did pout. She hated her mother in that moment. But Maura shooed her away, so, grumbling she stood and made her way towards the door. "Maur?" The doctor stuck her head out of the closet. "I love you," Jane grinned.
The doctor grinned back.
"I'm sorry I was such a chicken and it took me forever to say."
Maura merely smiled. "I love you, too, Jay. Now go on. I'll be along in just a moment."
Jane slipped out the door and stood with her back against the wall, waiting for her pulse to return to normal, for the ache between her legs to recede a bit. She nearly skipped on her way downstairs. She loved Maura. Maura loved her back. Like actually. Loved. Jane wanted to sing. And she did not sing. But she could have, right at that moment. She could have.
AN2: I'll have the next one up in a jiffy. Thank you so much for reading. Love.