You'll Be Here, Part 2 of 2
Pairing: Nothing overt, aside from some speculating by Frost and Korsak, but if pushed, I'd say Jane/Maura
Spoilers: Up through "The Beast In Me"
Warnings: None.
Disclaimer: The only thing that's mine is the plot, such as it is.
Notes: Frost and Korsak are both tough to write, for completely different reasons. Hopefully, they translated well. Thank you for all the reviews!
Frost closed the door behind him and sat down heavily with a deep, heartfelt sigh.
"She see you?" Korsak asked.
"Don't think so."
"Get there okay?"
"Eventually."
"Huh?"
Frost rolled across the room in his desk chair; although they were the only ones there, he lowered his voice. "You ever seen Jane cry?"
He frowned. "Once. When they pulled out the second scalpel."
"Not the first?"
"No," was all he said; the memory of that scream would haunt his nightmares forever. They would all be better off if that was where it stayed.
"Well?"
He sighed. "Jane crying? Saddest thing you'll ever see." He glanced at Frost. "You tell her I said that, I'll break your arms."
"Hey, not me. I know better."
"Why do you ask?" His eyes widened as he answered his own question. "Where?" he asked.
"Couple blocks from here. Pulled over to the side of the street and bawled her eyes out for a minute or two, then drove on like nothing happened."
Korsak glanced at him. "She wanted to hang out in the morgue. I stopped her. If she'd have been there…."
He made a dismissive gesture. "They'd have still taken the Doc."
"Maybe," Korsak admitted. "Probably hurt Jane to grab her." They both knew Jane would put herself in the line of fire to protect her.
Frost met Korsak's eyes for a moment, then looked away. "Logical."
"Yeah," Korsak said quietly. "But…look, it's logical that it's not my fault Hoyt got her. Doesn't mean I don't feel lousy about it."
"You think it's the same thing? Cop guilt?"
Korsak snorted, then laughed outright.
"Yeah, okay. Not the same thing." He fiddled with a pen for a moment. He'd wanted to ask pretty much since the first time he'd seen the two interact, but could never find the right time. Yet here they were, alone in the squad room, in the middle of the night. "You think they…?"
"I dunno. Don't think it matters, really."
"Really?"
He shrugged. "Feelin's there. What they do or don't do in the bedroom doesn't change that."
"Maybe."
"Look, the rest of us, Jane's gotta be strong for." He shrugged again. "She's gotta be tough. She doesn't have to do that with the Doc. It's a good thing. No one's tough all the time."
Frost frowned. "I never – "
"Women cops gotta. It's no fair, but it's still the way it is. You've seen how Crowe treats her. It was ten times worse when she started. Some jerkwad even left a tampon in a water bottle on her desk."
"So, you're saying…."
"I'm sayin' the Doc's her safe space. Everyone's gotta have one." Seeing Frost's skeptical look, he sighed. "You're too young, kid, and things are already changing." Korsak drummed his fingers on his desk. "They do bicker like an old married couple," he finally admitted, granting him the point.
"Yeah, like you'd know."
"Hey, I been married – "
Frost rolled his eyes. "Sure…but were you ever married long enough to qualify as an old married couple?"
"Well, hell, Frost, if they qualify, I sure do."
Frost shrugged. "Yeah, all right." He glanced at Jane's empty desk. "She promised them anything."
"That's just who Jane is," Korsak said. "And why she pisses off the brass so much. She doesn't care about rules if she thinks they're between her and helping someone."
"Someone?"
"Well, okay, it bein' the Doc didn't hurt, but that's how Hoyt got her the first time, too. She went in without backup."
Frost sighed. "It's a good thing she's so damn good at her job."
"Only thing that saves her, sometimes."
Sunday dinner with the Rizzolis had been an…experience. Maura had tried all night, but never could find the words to thank them for welcoming her into the fold, or for Jane for her thoughtfulness in asking her in the first place.
It was so different than the events she'd gone to as a child. She'd been carefully instructed in the proper social graces, but they were predictable, scripted.
There was nothing in cotillion classes about how to intervene when a brother and sister were about to include her in a pillow fight.
Still, somehow Jane had known that the last thing she wanted was to be alone, and she had invented errands and activities for them to do together all weekend.
As Sunday night lengthened into Monday morning, though, they'd both run out of excuses and Jane had reluctantly left to go home, despite several invitations to use the guest bedroom downstairs.
Battling a vague feeling of rejection, Maura had slept very little.
She continued debating with herself as she drove to work. A thank you card would suffice for the Rizzolis, wouldn't it? They seemed the traditional type.
But it didn't seem enough – they had welcomed her with open arms, Angela in particular, and by the time she left she'd been certain that Angela would involve herself in her life as thoroughly as she did Jane's.
She forced herself not to think too closely about the fact that these people were becoming more of a family to her than either of her real ones.
Perhaps she could send them some San Marzano tomatoes, or some other specialty Italian foods?
But would that interest Mr. Rizzoli, who, though more subdued than his boisterous wife, had been nothing but kind?
And Jane….
Whatever was she going to do for Jane?
She was still pondering that one as she walked into her office, absently hanging up her jacket and stowing her lunch – which consisted of leftovers from the night before – in the likely event that Jane came down to share.
She turned to boot up her computer and froze.
There, on her keyboard, was a key.
It sat there, unmarked and unadorned, but she knew exactly what it was.
She sat at her desk and carefully threaded it onto her key ring, her mind racing. As she did, she noticed a slip of paper sticking out from beneath her keyboard.
Ma. Pop. Frankie. Frost. Korsak. Marissa. Aunt Anna.
It was a list of phone numbers fifteen people long, with multiple numbers for each person, and annotated with a short note: I figure you can have these memorized in…what…five minutes?
Strangely, perhaps irrationally, she felt a little relieved at knowing why Jane had forced herself to leave the night before – though she had to wonder where she'd found a twenty-four hour locksmith.
Finally, she picked up her phone and typed out a text message.
Jane – I have an errand to run at lunch. There are leftovers down here if you want some.
She hit send and then paused. And before you ask, they're in the 'good' fridge.
She put her keys back in her purse and was not surprised when her phone beeped at her almost immediately.
Anything I can help with?
Maura smiled and shook her head. That, of course, was Jane's not-so-subtle offer to provide guard service.
No, but thank you.
There was a longer pause.
Dinner tonight?
Maura smiled again. Sure. Unless we get a call, I don't have much to do but paperwork today. Meet you upstairs at 5?
Sure. :-)
She shook her head and turned her phone to silent, then opened up an autopsy report she had begun the day before and began to type.
Jane had had to drag herself out of bed the next morning; dinner had lengthened into movie night, which would have been fine on a weekend but was difficult at best on a weeknight.
Still, she didn't regret it; despite her assurances to the contrary, it was clear that Maura was still struggling with the events of their last case, and she was happy to do what she could to distract her friend from it.
Not that she blamed her – she didn't know what was worse: to find out she had a brother only after doing his autopsy, or to discover her father was…who he was.
"For all I know," she'd muttered in a slightly drunken slur, "my mother's a serial killer."
Jane had been pretty proud of her reply, if she did say so herself, especially after half a bottle of wine: "Don't you mean your egg donor?"
Given that Maura had had to drive home and change in the morning, she was somewhat surprised to see her friend's car sitting patiently in her parking spot, but chalked it up to Maura's work ethic with a fond grin.
She headed upstairs to drop her stuff off, planning to make a visit down to the autopsy room to make sure she was doing all right.
She reached out to flick on her computer and froze, staring at her keyboard.
She picked up the key and stared at the keychain. Fair's fair was written on one side, and on the other the numbers 2718.
Her alarm code. It had to be.
She began to grin as she carefully removed the keychain and added the key to her ring, conscious of the security risk the keychain itself represented.
She dug out her phone. I figured it would be pi, she typed.
It didn't take long for the reply. But I already told you how I admire Euler's number e.
Right. How could I forget that? ;-)
Sarcasm, Jane?
Jane shook her head. There's still some leftovers in the good fridge. Mind if I come down and share?
See you at 12.
She put her phone down with a smile, pulling out some paperwork and getting to work.
She never noticed Frost and Korsak exchange knowing grins behind her back.