A/N: Because waiting for updates sucks… here's another chapter right away. Suitable song for this one is "Rootless Tree" by Damien Rice… it's basically the acoustic equivalent of this chapter.
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Chapter 3 – Night 1
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At the end of the disastrous day that every Bostonian now wished to forget, shortly before midnight, Jane finally unlocked the door to her apartment and trudged inside, closely followed by Maura and Angela, who looked equally exhausted and sad. The detective didn't bother turning on the living room lights and instead headed towards the dimly lit kitchen, where she was greeted by Jo Friday wagging her tail in anticipation of someone finally filling her feeding bowl. The poor puppy had been forced to wait patiently in the apartment all night while Jane had been taken to the hospital and her dog walker had been stuck in the chaotic traffic in the city.
Maura and Angela exchanged a worried glance and watched how the detective absentmindedly ruffled the dog's fur. When Jane heaved herself up again and retrieved a large bag of dog food from the closet beneath the kitchen sink, letting out a stifled groan as the weight of the bag pulled at her ribs, Maura hurried to her side and reached for the bag.
"Wait, I'll do it," the blonde said quietly and reassuringly patted Jane's arm. "You should lie down for a while…"
"Hmm…," the detective murmured in response before getting herself a beer from the fridge and wearily disappearing towards her bedroom.
Once she had taken care of Jo Friday's food, Maura knelt down and playfully ran her fingers through the dog's fur. Moments later, the clanking of dishes and glasses being sorted into the dishwasher pulled the medical examiner from her thoughts, and she looked up to find Angela cleaning the clutter in Jane's kitchen. Even though she remembered Jane's rather amusing complaints about her mother's obsessive cleaning in the past, Maura also knew that it was Angela's motherly instinct that required a distraction from the subliminal worries that had been haunting her ever since Jane had announced her intention to join BPD. But on a day like this, no kitchen would be dirty enough to allow the Rizzoli matriarch to fully forget her fear, and thus, Maura just watched in silence as the elder woman scurried around and let the chaos in the kitchen divert her attention from the chaos in her mind.
Eventually, the medical examiner pulled herself up, leaned against the counter, and handed Angela a few of the used plates that probably had been gathering there since Jane's last meal at home. Maura tried to figure out the exact date to determine what kind of bacteria might have moved in, but given that Jane had spent most nights at her house this week, she decided it would be better not to know. She pushed another dirty plate over the counter and rubbed her tired eyes.
The Rizzoli matriarch put the remaining dishes and some dirty pots into the water-filled sink to let them soak for a while, then dropped her shoulders. "Poor Detective Frost…," she sighed. "Such a bright young man…" She turned to Maura, her eyes those of a woman who still believed in the good in man despite everything she had seen. "Why would anybody do something like this?"
The medical examiner helplessly shrugged. "It's too soon to tell."
Giving in to her motherly instincts, Angela stepped closer and thoroughly studied Maura's face. "I'm glad you're okay, honey." The elder Rizzoli woman hesitatingly caressed the blonde's arm, afraid that she might pull away just like Jane usually would when all Angela wanted was a hug. Maura nodded thankfully but then reached for a kitchen towel and began to wipe clean the counter near the stove.
"You'll tell me if you need anything, right?" Angela urged with concern.
"I'll be fine…" Maura tried to muster an assuring smile. With limited success. When running water was heard from the shower adjacent to Jane's bedroom, the medical examiner paused and looked at the Rizzoli matriarch. "But I'm worried about Jane…"
"Me, too," Angela whispered. "The last time I've seen her like this was when she was just a little girl and one of her friends had moved away. She was too young to really understand what moving away meant…" The elder Rizzoli woman's face lit up as she reminisced about her daughter. "She hid in her room for days and refused to talk to her father or me."
"Grief or separation can result in behavior that seems irrational at first," Maura explained soothingly. "But it is a natural reaction… The brain tries to hold on to familiar routines in order to avoid less preferable disruptions and risks."
"Yeah, Jane just wanted her friend back." Suddenly, Angela's face darkened. "My God, I don't even remember that other girl's name… What if we forget about Detective Frost, too?"
"We won't," Maura promised, her voice cracking at the thought of their loss.
When the sound of running water next door faded away, Angela straightened up and her motherly instincts kicked back in. "Well, I'm gonna check on her… see if she needs anything…"
As soon as the Rizzoli matriarch had left the room, Maura knelt down again and sought comfort in Jo Friday's warm fur while quietly sniffing away a tear.
Even though the hot water of her five-minute shower had washed away the dirt and soot that had darkened Jane's skin, it hadn't been able to wash away the sorrows that were now darkening her heart. And as the brunette stood in front of her bedroom mirror, already dressed in a fresh bra and a pair of casual sweatpants and about to pull a BPD T-shirt over her head, she paused and stared at the purple bruises beginning to form around her fractured ribs — external signs of the internal scars that this day would forever etch into her soul.
When Angela appeared in the doorframe and found Jane just standing there, T-shirt half over her head, she quickly stepped closer and tried to ignore the worrisome sight of her daughter's battered body. "Wait… let me help you."
"It's okay, Ma, I don't need help," Jane instantly squirmed away and pulled down the shirt herself even though her sudden protest made her flinch at the resulting sting in her chest.
Driven by the need to feel needed, Angela focused her attention on the room instead and began to pick up the dirt-stained clothes Jane had dropped on the floor.
The detective observed her from the corner of her eye and reached for her beer in frustration. She might have been able to ignore her mother's obsessive behavior on any other day, but after everything Jane had been through today, it was simply too much. "Can't you annoy somebody else tonight?" she moaned and dropped down onto her bed.
"I just want to be sure you're okay…," the Rizzoli matriarch declared.
"Well, I am," Jane grumbled and took a long draft of her beer.
Angela stuffed her daughter's clothes into a basket and then sat down next to her on the bed. "You could have died today…"
"Yeah, but I didn't. Life goes on," the brunette objected harshly.
"Jane…," the elder Rizzoli woman pleaded.
"I'm tired, Ma…," Jane sighed. "Can we not make a big deal out of this? Just go back to Tommy's… T.J. will be happy to see you in the morning."
When the detective brought the bottle of beer to her mouth again and didn't show any intention to continue their conversation, Angela nodded in silence and got up. She placed a motherly kiss on Jane's head and gently rubbed her daughter's back, knowing from experience that — at least tonight — she wouldn't be able to break through the walls that Jane had erected around herself. "Get some rest, honey…," she whispered before sneaking out of the room.
Jane knew she wasn't being fair towards her mother. She knew that the Rizzoli matriarch was just following her instincts and trying to help. But she also knew that her partner's remains were buried somewhere under the rubble of the Il Camino ruins. And what she didn't know was how or if she would ever be able to return to BPD and face the empty desk that Frost had left behind.
Therefore, instead of running after her mother, Jane just clutched her beer in one hand and hid her face in the other. Why couldn't he have picked another restaurant? Some place closer to BPD… or the Dirty Robber… or a fricking hot-dog stand…? Why did he have to be so damn dedicated and refuse to settle for anything but the best?
Before her sorrows could lure her deeper into the abyss, a soft knock on the open bedroom door pulled her from her thoughts and she looked up to find Maura leaning against the frame.
"You okay?" the medical examiner asked.
"Yeah," the detective lied.
After a moment of indecision, Maura walked over and sank down on the edge of the bed next to Jane. "Angela has gone back to Tommy's…," she said quietly but then playfully nudged the brunette. "The good news is she only cleaned your kitchen this time — your living room is still the creative mess you prefer."
A faint smile played on Jane's lips as she acknowledged Maura's attempt to cheer her up.
"You want me to leave, too?" the blonde asked insecurely.
Jane shook her head. "Stay if you want…" She glanced at the medical examiner from the side and noticed her still dirty blouse. "You can pick one of my sweaters or something if you wanna get out of these clothes…"
Maura nodded thankfully. "I wish we could just forget this day…," she sighed, prompting Jane to hand her the half-empty bottle of beer. Without hesitation, Maura accepted the offer and took a long draft.
It was in the middle of the night when a repetitive dull thudding sound woke Maura from her dreamless sleep. She blinked drowsily and tried to make out her surroundings in the dark. Once her eyes had adjusted to the silver moonlight shining in through the windows, she recognized the familiar furniture of Jane's bedroom and remembered how she had barely managed to change into one of the detective's sweaters and climb into bed before exhaustion had pulled her tired mind to sleep.
Still half asleep now, she sat up, pushed back the bedcover she had been hiding under, and looked around.
"Jane…?" she asked into the darkness upon noticing the emptiness of the other half of the bed.
When there was no response but more dull thuds were breaking the silence of the night, Maura switched on the bedside lamp, rolled out of bed, and slipped into her shoes. Wrapping herself into the Red Sox World Series 2004 Champions sweater that was keeping her warm, she staggered out of the room.
As soon as she reached the end of the hallway, she found the source of the noise in the form of Jane angrily slamming her fists into the self-defense dummy that Korsak and Frost had given her as a get-well present after she had been shot — or rather, shot herself — during the siege at BPD about three years ago.
For a few moments, Maura just leaned against the wall and heavy-heartedly watched the exasperated detective take her frustration out on the helpless dummy while two empty beer bottles stood guard on the floor. Another punch with her right… Then a hook with her left… Immersed in her nightly fit of rage, Jane didn't notice the blonde standing merely six feet away.
When the medical examiner couldn't watch any longer, afraid that the brunette might do even more harm to her broken ribs, she stepped closer. "You're risking serious damage to your thorax…," she pointed out softly.
Jane briefly glanced at her from the side before sending her fist flying into the dummy once more. "I don't care."
"But I do," Maura objected.
Another punch hit the dummy with full force…
"Jane, please, stop!" the blonde begged when the detective gritted her teeth in pain.
"Just go back to bed, Maura," Jane suggested in between a strong hook with her left and another punch with her right.
The medical examiner sighed. "I can't sleep as long as you're out here making every effort to be back in the hospital by tomorrow…"
"If that's the only thing keeping you awake…," the detective muttered under her breath.
Maura squinted, feeling a certain hopelessness gripping her heart. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing," Jane grunted and landed another punch.
"Are you saying I'm not upset enough?" the blonde wondered in consternation. "Because I am… But I am also tired and my head hurts, and I don't know if or how I will be able to get up tomorrow and go down there and help them identify all those bodies…"
For a second, Jane stopped at the familiar sorrows that had been filling her head as well, but then her thoughts returned to the explosion and to her dead partner. And with another angry left hook, she gave back in to the rage that had driven her out of bed half an hour ago.
And slowly but steadily, Maura began to give in to her inner turmoil, too. Right after the explosion, when she had found Jane on the ground and realized that nobody would make it out of the Il Camino ruins alive, she had decided to stay strong and to do anything she could to help Jane through the loss of her partner, but now that she was faced with the full intensity of the pain the bomb had inflicted upon Jane, she had to concede that maybe she wasn't strong enough after all.
"I really don't want to have to worry about your health right now," Maura pleaded with her voice quivering.
"Then don't," the detective retorted.
Another powerful punch…
Feeling her remaining strength crumble away, Maura helplessly watched how Jane flinched at the pain in her chest but refused to give in. Again and again, her fists hammered into the helpless dummy.
"Maybe I should just go…," the medical examiner surrendered.
"If that's what you want…," Jane gasped out indifferently.
Her next punch was finally enough. Not for the dummy, but certainly for Maura. Her eyes filling with tears, she stormed past the brunette, grabbed her jacket from the couch, and rushed out of the apartment without looking back.
When the door slammed shut, Jane finally let her fists sink down, leaned against the dummy, and buried her head in her right arm. With her left, she kept on hitting the dummy a little longer, each punch getting weaker and weaker until she finally gave up and held her chest in pain. Panting heavily, she stood motionless in the twilight of her apartment. Alone.
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