A/N: Thank you to Charlie for the edits, as always!
My heart breaks for the family, friends, colleagues and fans of Lee Thompson Young. I hope he rests in peace.
The following morning started what would become a months-long routine for me. I'd get up at five-thirty every morning with Maura's alarm clock. I'd shower in the guest bathroom while she showered in the master bath, except on the days when we showered together and inevitably ran late. If Ma knew what had made us run late on those days, she didn't let on. Maura and I had developed a very active, very passionate sex life, and we often joked that the reason we did it so much was because we were making up for lost time. Both of us knew though, that we were just incredibly attracted to one another. That attraction had not faded at all in the months we were together. In fact, I think I loved her even more with each passing day. That thrill of seeing Maura walk into a room, or when some little action of hers would turn me on without warning was still there, and we were quickly learning that it would never leave. This is what it meant to be so completely in love with someone that your attraction to the other person only grew with time. It never waned.
After our morning routines, we would meet in the kitchen and have a quick breakfast together, because Maura refused to eat in the cafe since Stanley had let my mother go. I admired her resolve. She'd then pack a lunch, which I suspected she was keeping in the "dead fridge" in the morgue, and loaded up on healthy snacks that I was pretty sure she was giving to Frost and Korsak to keep them out of the cafe and keep them fed.
Most mornings my mother would drive me to outpatient therapy while Maura went to work. Some days Maura would get called to a scene in the middle of the night and would just be coming home as I was getting ready to leave, and on those days she would drive me to therapy. In the beginning I had protested a lot, because Maura needed to sleep, but she rationalized driving me by saying she'd missed me the night before. Truthfully, I enjoyed those days the most. It wasn't that I didn't enjoy riding into therapy with my mother driving, but the nights without Maura were long and lonely, and the half hour we spent in the car before she went home to go to sleep were tiny treasures for me. I'm pretty sure she treasured them too.
Every few weeks, Maura and I would meet up with Sara and her husband Jim for dinner. Sara had gone from my nurse to my friend. I found myself looking forward to her stories. She was an incredibly insightful, encouraging person, and I was lucky that Maura had chosen her to be my private nurse. In the beginning I'd thought I would grow to resent her presence at the rehab, but looking back, I realized how much of a role she played in my recovery in the time she spent with me, and I was incredibly thankful to her.
At some point I'd put my crutches down and just never picked them back up again. I still had to be more careful than most people going up and down stairs, but it had been ages since I'd needed to stop on the stairs and give my pelvis a rest. Maura no longer needed to wrap her arm around my waist when I walked around without my crutches. Sometimes she would still do it out of habit, but it wasn't a necessity anymore. I never discouraged her from doing it, even though I no longer needed her assistance to walk around. I had spent too much time longing for her arms around me, and now that we were together, I would never push her away. Sometimes she would catch herself doing it, and would let go sheepishly. I always pulled her back to me with a smile.
Over the course of those months, my therapy continued to evolve. Derrick no longer needed to remind me to watch my gait, and my limp was slowly beginning to go away. We had discontinued aqua therapy and were concentrating on strengthening my pelvis and working the limp out of my gait. One afternoon a week I would go up to the track on top of the rehab center and walk it for an hour. Once I started feeling more confident, I started to jog it. Derrick had even begun to jog with me, slowly and almost painfully, on the days I went up there. It wasn't even part of my therapy. It was just something I had started doing to keep active and to give myself something to do in the afternoons. He would just meet me up there and jog with me. He said it was because he liked to keep fit, but I knew he could run circles around me. I think what he really was doing was pumping me for information on what it would take for me to physically qualify for duty, and he was also secretly making sure I didn't get hurt.
In those three months I made progress in every way, but there were always setbacks, too. I fell in physical therapy one afternoon and wound up slicing open my forehead on a piece of equipment. I needed seven sutures, and had to be checked for a concussion. I wound up missing several days of therapy afterward because Dr. Grossberg wanted me to rest. I was embarrassed by my fall and infuriated with myself that I could let that happen. I hadn't fallen in therapy in months, and I'd simply tripped over my own two feet while doing a simple exercise. It had been an easily avoidable incident and I'd let it happen. Even though he never said it, I felt like I'd let Derrick down, and I felt like I'd let myself down too when I had to sit out of therapy for the rest of that week.
I also missed two entire weeks of therapy when, in late April, I caught a cold. Maura and Dr. Grossberg weren't the least bit surprised when the cold turned into severe bronchitis, and I wound up in the emergency room one night with a high fever and a low blood oxygen level.
I was admitted as an inpatient, despite my vocal protests. I was put on a potent mix of antivirals and antibiotics, and had to wear an oxygen mask for two days. Once the fever broke, I was discharged back home, but had to continue my medications intravenously.
I was so weak that Maura and Ma took turns watching over me, keeping me in bed and forcing me to rest. I was more than just upset that I was so sick. I knew with every day that passed without me doing therapy, I fell further and further behind in my recovery.
Catching that cold was a reminder that even though I was getting stronger with each passing day, I was a long way off from being a healthy adult. My immune system had been ravaged when my lacerated bowel had caused a massive infection, and even all those months later I was still more prone to disease than the people around me.
What was a simple illness to the people around me could quickly become life threatening for me, I'd realized. Maura, thank goodness for her, was so patient with me throughout all of it, even if I was a horrible patient and she was incredibly worried.
I was also making progress with my psychotherapy. I'd stopped looking at Dr. Gilfried as the enemy, and she and I had an understanding. She'd only push so far, and I'd make a better effort at engaging in therapy without sealing myself up. I think therapy had become easier for me as my physical therapy progressed, because with each new modality that Derrick and I worked on, I felt closer to being able to go back to work. No one had promised me anything by that point, and I knew I was nowhere near ready for my physical test to qualify for duty, but my confidence increased along with my abilities. The more confident I became, the more hopeful I became, and the easier it got for me to work with Dr. Gilfried. It never occurred to me, at that point anyway, that Dr. Gilfried was masterfully constructing that very scenario for me.
Some afternoons Maura would surprise me by picking me up from therapy instead of Ma, simply because she wanted to do something sweet. Sometimes it was because Ma was working with her financial advisors or meeting with the bank in order to negotiate the sale of the cafe from Stanley.
Stanley was being a royal pain in the ass about everything, and everyone involved with the sale was starting to get frustrated. Stanley constantly flip-flopped about the price of the cafe and his conditions of sale. It had taken months to negotiate him down to the true value of the cafe, and once they'd gotten him down to a price Ma could afford, he came up with a list of demands about how things were supposed to be handled once the sale was completed. Naturally the people working on Ma's behalf had objected to any demands, because if Ma owned the cafe, she should be able to run it as she saw fit. This had caused weeks of back and forth between Ma's people and Stanley with little progress at all.
Maura's financial advisors were used to negotiating multi-million dollar transactions for very wealthy investors, and not one of them had come across a situation quite like the one Stanley was creating. Making matters worse, Stanley had a cousin that was a lawyer, and his cousin was drawing up the contracts of sale for Stanley. He was just as truculent and high strung as Stanley, and it was making everyone miserable. The only thing keeping the advisors from walking away from this "small fish" was that Ma had endeared herself to the advisors and none of them wanted to lose Maura's business, or the business of the Isles Foundation, should they drop Ma as a client.
I was proud of Ma for working so hard to get that cafe from Stanley. I knew she would really take that cafe to new heights if Stanley would just relinquish control and retire already.
Dr. Grossberg had initially refused to sign off on me doing restricted desk duty the first time I had asked her after that Sunday dinner with my family, and it really shocked me. She'd explained that I'd made terrific progress, but she wanted me concentrating on my therapies and not on working. She didn't want me seated for up to four hours an afternoon working on paperwork. She and Dr. Gilfried wanted me up and active when I got home, participating in things like household chores and reintegrating with my family.
I'd tried explaining that part of reintegrating with my family was going back to work, since everyone I was close to worked at the precinct in some fashion. They understood that, and they had tried to let me down gently. Regardless, it frustrated me a great deal, and I knew they sensed that, but they were steadfast in their refusals as I asked, repeatedly, to be put on restricted desk duty in the months that followed.
I think that's why, one sunny Friday afternoon, three months into my outpatient therapy, and about six months since I'd woken up from my coma, Dr. Gilfried and Dr. Grossberg surprised me by reducing my physical therapy from five days a week to three, and my psychotherapy to just once a week. Not only had I reached a point where I no longer needed daily therapy, but they were actually going to give me permission to work restricted desk duty twice a week for four hours each day. I was so shocked when they'd sat me down to tell me about it that I had to ask them to repeat themselves. Twice.
I had finally been given clearance to return to work, even in a severely restricted fashion, and I was thrilled. I couldn't wait to tell Maura, and I couldn't wait to call Cavanaugh. Cavanaugh had been asking about it every Sunday he came to dinner, and I felt bad telling him that the doctors had continued to refuse my requests. He didn't show me, but I could tell he was starting to get frustrated. Frost and Korsak were too. None of them would ever rush me into recovering, but they all wanted me back in any capacity they could get me.
The sweetness of the Friday they gave me the go ahead for desk duty only increased when Maura's Mercedes pulled up in front of the rehab, instead of Ma in the Prius. Maura grinned at me as I got in.
"Hey, beautiful girl," she said as I opened the door.
"Hey, Maur. What brings you here?" I asked as I buckled up and leaned over to kiss her.
"Quiet day. Thought I'd give your mother a break and pick you up," she said sweetly.
"It's always a wonderful surprise to see you, when you show up like this. I have great news!" I said as we drove off toward home.
We were about three quarters of the way home, and I was in the middle of telling Maura my new therapy schedule when Maura's phone rang.
"Dr. Isles," she picked it up, glancing at me apologetically before returning her eyes to the road.
"Can Dr. Pike cover for me? I'm not in the area."
She sighed.
"All right. I'm on my way. Hold the scene until I get there. It'll probably be closer to an hour, maybe an hour and a half."
She disconnected the call and looked at me. "I have to drop you off and then run to a scene. Dr. Pike is on vacation this week. I'm sorry. I thought we could spend the afternoon together. So much for it being a quiet afternoon."
"It's okay," I said. "It was sweet of you to come and get me. Where is the scene?"
"Blossom Street," Maura replied.
"Maur, we're about to go right past the exit we need to take to get there. Why don't you just take me with you to the scene?" I asked.
"You know I can't let you onto the scene, Jane. You'd have to wait in the car."
"I know, Maur," I said disappointedly. "I wouldn't compromise your scene though," I added quickly, when I saw Maura's shoulders tense.
"I could be there for hours, and it's nearly ninety degrees outside," Maura pointed out.
The June day was perfect, and even though I knew I'd be stuck on the sidelines, I wanted to go with Maura to the scene.
"Please Maura. Just take me there. I won't leave the car, except maybe to stand up if I get uncomfortable sitting. I know how long processing a scene can take and I swear I will not interfere."
Maura looked over at me and sighed. Then she flicked her turn signal on and took the exit toward Blossom Street. I grinned at her.
We arrived and she parked under a tree, at least a block from where everyone else was parked and a block and a half from the scene itself. She rolled down all of the car's windows so I wouldn't completely roast while I waited. I think that she figured the further away she parked her car, the less likely I'd be to show up outside of the crime scene tape. She was smart, because as we arrived there, I felt that same anxious feeling I felt before I visited every crime scene. It was a mixture of nerves, determination and a tinge of excitement. I repeatedly had to remind myself that I wasn't going to the scene. I was staying in the car, away from the scene and away from Maura. As badly as I wanted to be there, I would not do anything to compromise Maura and the other homicide detectives' case.
"I'll try to be quick," Maura said, reaching into the backseat for her ever-present medical examiner's bag.
"Don't," I replied, grabbing her arm and forcing a smile onto my face. "Don't rush the science for me. Work your scene and do your usual best. I'll be right here."
"I wish you could come with me," she said quietly. "I miss your insight on these things."
"Soon, Maura. Soon." I let myself feel hopeful. If that afternoon had proven anything, it was that I was on my way to going back to work, at least in some capacity.
"Call me if you need anything, or if you want me to have one of the uniforms take you home," she said as she started to walk away. She glanced once over her shoulder at me and I gave her a little wave before she walked to the officer on duty and flashed her medical examiner's badge. Then she made her way under the police tape and got to work.
I watched Maura work behind the tape from the distance where we were parked. I could barely make her out from so far away, but because it was Maura, I could always tell where she was. I yearned to be down there at that scene with her, but knew better than to go anywhere near the police tape. I couldn't interfere. It would be unprofessional, and it would compromise their entire investigation. I'd promised Maura I wouldn't go near the scene, and I was intent on keeping that promise, no matter how tempted I was.
Between the heat in the car and the workout I'd gotten at physical therapy, I started getting sleepy. After a while I let myself doze off in the car seat. When I woke up a while later, I was stiff and achy. I got out of the car to stretch my legs, using all of my will to keep myself from wandering down to the crime scene. Instead I walked a short way up the block in the opposite direction, and then turned back toward the car, giving my muscles a chance to stretch out. I leaned on the outside of the car instead of getting right back in, because it was so hot inside the car. Under the tree where Maura had parked the car was somewhat cooler than being in the direct sunlight, and even though it was a hot day, it wasn't entirely unpleasant. I looked up at the sky, taking in the deep summer blue and watching the puffy clouds float by for a little while.
As I leaned on the car, I watched a guy with a badge walking up the block. I watched him look me over, and I looked him over, trying to remember if I recognized him. I had no idea who he was.
"Hey, are you new?" I asked the guy as he started passing by. "I mean to the homicide unit," I clarified when he looked taken aback by my questioning.
"First week on the job. Why, is it showing?" he asked, looking back down the block toward the crime scene.
"No, it's just, I worked Boston Homicide for years and never met you. That's why I asked," I explained.
"Oh. I got called in to replace some chick that left," he said nonchalantly. "It's been a real baptism by fire. No training at all. I had to walk away from that dickwad Crowe before I punched him," he said angrily.
"Oh," I said quietly. No wonder Cavanaugh had been so relentless with asking if I could come back on desk duty. No wonder there seemed to be some secret going on between Frost, Korsak, and Cavanaugh that had started months earlier at a Sunday dinner. No wonder why Maura didn't want me coming to the scene with her, and why she'd parked so far away from the tape.
I realized that I was the chick that left. And I'd been replaced.
"Well, uh, nice meeting you, um, Detective…?"
"Rizzoli," I grumbled.
"I'm Klatsky," he frowned when I made no move to shake his hand or further the conversation. "Well, nice meeting you. Take care," he said, and continued walking up the block.