This is how Maura Isles ends up alone, in Jane Rizzoli's apartment.
Though she'd told Dr. Hamilton that she didn't want to meet the Rizzolis as some form of punishment, she can't help but think that this is what she will receive. She follows Aisha into the waiting room, she braces herself for the angry words of three scared family members. She is used to such things in her line of work.
But the Rizzolis stand when the doctors enter, and after Aisha introduces her, the mother steps forward to hug her.
"How terrible," she says tearfully. "You must have been so frightened."
The words hit Maura squarely in the chest, and she almost begins to cry again. The taller of the two brothers, slim and fine featured like his sister, reaches out to pull his mother gently away from Maura.
"C'mon, Ma," he says softly. "Let the woman breathe."
She pulls away, wiping at her eyes with a tissue, and smiles weakly at Maura. "I'm Angela," she says. "This is Tommy," the man who'd pulled her away, "and this is Frankie," a shorter, dark haired man in a police officer's uniform.
Maura opens her mouth to say that it is nice to meet them too.
"I'm so, so sorry," she says, choking up. She puts her hand to her heart, like she could hold back the tears. "I'm so-"
But Frankie steps up now, shaking his head. "Nah," he says easily. "Doc says she's going to pull through, right?" He looks to Aisha who nods reassuringly. "Yeah," he continues, "so there's nothing to be sad about. Jane's been in worse."
Maura allows this information to percolate, trying to think of something worse than being shot three times while trying to defend a stranger.
"This case has been bothering her for weeks," Frankie says, and when she looks up at him in confusion, "Fairfield killed his brother, but she couldn't prove it. She knew he was dangerous but she couldn't get him off the street. She wouldn't have forgiven herself if you'd gotten hurt."
Angela rolls her eyes, launching into an obviously well-worn diatribe that begins with "My Janie has always taken work too seriously. What she should be focusing on is real life…"
But Maura doesn't really hear her. She's stuck on Frankie's revelation, and suddenly she finds that she has to sit down.
She turns and stumbles to the nearest chair, lowering herself into it shakily.
Fairfield killed his brother.
It couldn't be true, could it? Maura puts her hands on her knees. She barely registers when Aisha comes to sit beside her.
"You didn't know," she says quietly. "You didn't know that about Garrett."
Maura shakes her head. "How…" she begins, but is unsure of how she would finish the question.
How could this have happened?
How could I not have suspected him?
How could I have slept every night, under the same covers as a man who would-
'Hey," Aisha says quietly. "I can see you spiraling. Stop it. This is not your fault."
Maura looks up into Aisha's kind brown eyes. "You hated Garrett," she says. "Even before you loved me, you hated him. Was it because you saw that he was capable of this?"
Aisha's deep beige skin goes slightly pink with a blush. "Who says I love you?" she asks, elbowing Maura gently to show that this is a joke, and she wonders again why they'd decided not to make a go of it.
"He treated you poorly," Aisha says, looking sour at the thought. "He treated you like you were an idiot. Like you couldn't run circles around him intellectually on any subject in the book."
"And you don't think your jealousy of the situation colored your opinion?" she means it as an honest question, but it makes Aisha laugh.
"No," she says, when she's stopped. "A blind person could see that you deserved better than that mongrel."
Maura is going to respond, when Angela's raised voice catches her attention.
"It's a dog, Frankie! It can stand to be alone a little while longer. I swore to your sister we'd all be here when she woke up."
"She didn't hear you, Ma," Frankie answers, exasperated. "And Jo pees in her bed when she's angry."
"You mean when she's pissed?" Tommy asks, wiggling his eyebrows. This earns him dual glares from his brother and mother.
"I'll be back in half an hour, tops."
"No!" Angela says. "Frankie, I swear if she wakes up and you're not here."
"I don't see what the big deal is," Frankie throws his hands up, shaking his head. "She would want me to go and let her dog out, for Christ's sake."
"Do NOT!" Angela yells, "use the Lord's name in vain."
And Maura hears a voice – no, her voice – saying:
"I could go and walk the dog, if it would make things easier."
...
And that is how she ends up pushing her way into a stranger's apartment at 10:47 on a Thursday night, calling out to the fluffy little dog that bounds off the couch towards her as she steps into the front room.
"Hello, Jo Friday," she says nervously, and the dog stops barking and rolls onto its side to show its belly.
Maura smiles. "Oh, you're not so frightening," she says softly. "I'm here to take you for a walk."
At the magic word, Jo Friday flips upright again and trots to the door, looking back over her shoulder at the doctor expectantly.
Maura's smile widens. "I see you're ready." She opens the closet by the door where Angela had said the leash would be.
It is not there.
Maura steps back from the closet and looks around, the momentary ease she'd felt is fading. "Oh no, Jo Friday," she says. "Where is your leash?"
Jo Friday cocks her head, still standing by the door.
"I can't just take you out without one," Maura says, feeling her palms start to sweat. "And I'm sure you have to relieve yourself."
She is aware of the futility of talking to the dog, but she cannot help asking once more. "Jo, where is your leash?"
Jo Friday wags her tail and runs past Maura to jump onto the couch, brushing a precarious stack of books that topple to the floor with a series of thuds.
Maura bites her lip, moving quickly to the fallen books and dropping to her knees to pick them up. As she does so, she notices the end of Jo Friday's leather leash, poking out from between the couch cushions.
She looks up at the dog. "Don't look so satisfied with yourself," she says grumpily. "That was a coincidence. Nothing more."
She returns her attention to the scattered books, picking them up one at a time, worrying as she stacks them on the table that Jane will notice that they are out of order when she returns. She glances at the titles as she puts them back. Most of them are true crime novels, or paperback mysteries, but the last one is bigger than the others, a pale yellow with bright, cheerful writing.
What to Expect When You're Expecting.
Maura stares at it, trying to calm the beating of her heart. Was Jane pregnant? Aisha hadn't mentioned it.
Maura pushes up to sit on the worn couch, still holding the book tightly in one hand.
No. She couldn't have been pregnant. Plenty of people have this book, and it does not automatically mean that they are actively expecting a baby.
But something about this argument feels hollow to Maura. She looks down at the book, and flips it open without thinking.
It opens to a page immediately, the end of a chapter.
Week Eleven: How big is my Baby? What can I expect as I move into the Second Trimester? What's Normal? What's not?
And there, stuck between the pages is a sonogram. Square, and bent at the edges, like someone has been fingering it over and over.
Maura can't stop herself from pulling it out to look at it more closely, and she can no longer convince herself that it doesn't belong to the detective. The miniscule writing in the bottom corner of the photo says: Rizzoli, Jane C.
Maura feels tears in her eyes. She remembers what Aisha had said about the third bullet in Jane's stomach. There is no way she was able to save this baby, not with such extensive damage.
And Aisha didn't tell me.
Fury tempers Maura's grief and she stands, thinking of going back to the hospital and giving the doctor a piece of her mind. Next to her, Jo Friday jumps off the couch too with an excited bark.
Maura had completely forgotten the dog was there. She'd completely forgotten that her sole purpose in the apartment was to look after Jane's pet.
She bends to pull the leash from the couch cushions, and Jo Friday tap dances a happy jig by the door.
"First a walk," she says to the little dog. "And then back to the hospital, to have a word with your mother's Attending."
2.
Aisha does not immediately apologize to Maura for keeping the information about Detective Rizzoli's pregnancy from her.
"What good would it have done, Maura?" She asks, after dragging her back around the corner from the waiting room. "You already felt guilty. You really wanted me to let you torture yourself more?"
Maura shakes her head furiously. "I wouldn't have met her family," she hisses. "Of if I had, I would have apologized more satisfac-"
"No," Aisha says firmly. "You wouldn't have. Doctor patient confidentiality states that I can't-"
But Maura cuts across her. "Don't give me that. You've never pulled such a poor excuse with me before. I had a right to know."
"No, Doctor, you do not," Aisha says firmly. "If you weren't the woman Detective Rizzoli was protecting, you wouldn't-"
"If I wasn't the woman she was protecting, she would still be pregnant!" Maura yells. "This is my fault, no matter how you paint it. And her mother deserves to know how truly sorry I-"
"HER MOTHER DOESN'T KNOW!" Aisha bellows, drowning Maura out for the first time in the argument. She waits until she sees the understanding dawning on Maura's face before she continues.
"Her mother doesn't know, and I'm not sure her brothers do either," she repeats.
Maura feels like her knees may buckle. "What?" She asks faintly. "How is that..."
"Her partner," Aisha supplies. "He caught me just before I went to surgery. It was very lucky actually. He said she was pregnant, and that her family didn't know."
Maura opens her mouth, can think of nothing to say, and shuts it again. Aisha reaches for her hand, but she pulls away. She doesn't feel like touching anyone, like being touched, just now.
"What do I do?"
Aisha smiles sadly. "There's nothing you can do," she says.
…
Maura becomes the house sitter.
When she tries to give the key back to Angela Rizzoli, reporting that Jo Friday is doing fine, the other woman refuses to take it.
"She hasn't woken," Angela says tearfully. "She isn't awake yet."
"That's not unusual," Maura says, still holding out the key. "That's not a bad sign at all."
Frankie has come over at her arrival, and he looks at her gratefully. "See, Ma? She's going to be fine. Dr. Roswell is a great surgeon."
Maura nods, "And Dr. Hamilton is one of the best Attendings you could ask for."
Angela seems reassured, and her hand is outstretched for the house key, when she all of a sudden snatches it back.
"Oh, no!" She says, as though Maura has argued. "You can't go home!"
Maura looks down at the key in her hand, confused, wondering if the woman has forgotten that she leant the key in the first place.
"I-" she begins.
"You have nowhere to go!" Angela cries again. A couple who have huddled in the corner of the waiting room give Maura a sympathetic look that makes her cheeks burn.
"I'm sorry?" she says.
"Frankie told me that it was your husband that did this to my Jane," Angela says, her voice still raised.
"A contract killer," Maura corrects, wondering why she still feels the need to protect the man who wants her dead. "My husband…he hired someone."
Angela waves this fact away like a bothersome gnat. "Still," she says. "You can't go home! He might be there."
This hadn't occurred to Maura, though the momentary thrill of panic she feels is immediately eclipsed by the memory of Detective Korsak's statement. "He's been arrested," she says evenly. "I'm in no danger. Thank you," she adds, touched that this woman might think of her well being under the circumstances.
What would she think if she knew I was responsible for the death of her grandchild?
Maura pushes the thought away, swallowing heavily. Luckily, Frankie comes to her rescue at that moment, throwing her an apologetic glance as he takes his mother's arm.
"Ma," he says. "Leave her alone. She's been through enough."
Angela looks reluctant to let the matter rest. "At least keep the key then," she says, stepping back. "You can check up on Jo Friday until Jane can come home."
Frankie rolls his eyes. "Ma. I just said-"
"And," Angela continues, "You'll have some place safe to go if you need to. I watch cop shows. I know the things that could happen."
Maura blinks at her. "Excuse me?"
Frankie tries to speak again, but Angela puts her hand up. "If they can't keep him, honey. If he gets out on bail or escapes or something. He'll come looking for you! And you'll have somewhere safe to hide because you'll have Janie's key."
"Ma," Frankie says grumpily, "ordinary life is not like an episode of NCIS. Besides, the BPD will protect Dr Isles if she'd like to-"
"The BPD is protecting her, Frankie," Angela says, in a tone that does not leave room for argument. "Jane is protecting her." She turns back to Maura. "Is that alright, Doctor?"
Maura feels her hand close around the tiny silver key. "I-" she begins again.
"Good," Angela says. "It's settled."
So Maura leaves the hospital for the third time that day, calling her favorite hotel, The Liberty, on her way to her car.
"Dr. Isles," the concierge says after she's requested a room and introduced herself. "We thank you very much for choosing The Liberty. Will you be needing and special accommodations?"
Maura tucks the phone under her chin as she reaches into her coat for her car keys, a thought popping into her head. "I'd like my stay to be open ended," She says, "and yes. I'll be bringing a small dog with me. Under fifteen pounds. Please add whatever additional charge there will be onto my bill."
There is a slight pause on the other end of the phone, and then "Of course, Dr. Isles. Will there be anything else?"
"No," she says. "Thank you."
The phone disconnects, and Maura pulls out of her spot in the hospital's parking garage, plugging in the address of Jane's apartment building just in case she doesn't remember how to get there.