A/N: And so the wrap up begins. Jane has come so far. But has she come far enough? I guess you'll need to read and see. ;) We are just about done with this story. Thank you for being here, for sticking with it. Wednesday the final chapter will go up, and next Sunday the epilogue will get posted. And everyone, please give a great big thanks to CharlietheCAG for betaing this story. She's been around for most of my stories, but this is the first one she's done beta work on for me, and I truly appreciate the sheer amount of work she put into this and the amount of her free time she gave up for this. She deserves a great big thanks. :)
The morning of my physical requalification for duty I woke up way before my alarm. Maura felt me stirring and held me tighter. She was wrapped up in my arms, snuggled up against me just like she had been every night since I'd come home to her.
"It's early yet, beautiful girl," she murmured, sleep muffling her voice.
"I know," I whispered to her. "You should sleep."
"You should too," she said as she snuggled her nose against my chin. "Why are you so nervous?"
"I'm not nervous," I said pretty unconvincingly.
"Yes you are. You're wide awake hours before your alarm. You're physically tense. Your pulse is abnormally high. You are very nervous." Even half asleep she could diagnose me. I added it to my long list of reasons why I love Maura Isles.
"How do you even know my pulse is high?" I asked, trying to change the subject, but Maura called me out on it anyway.
"I fall asleep to your heartbeat every night, Jane. All I can feel right now is how tense you are, and how fast your heart is beating. And stop trying to change the subject."
I sighed.
"You've done this before, Jane. You know exactly what to expect. This is not the first time you've had to do a fitness test. You're ready," Maura reminded me sternly.
"I just don't feel ready, Maura."
"Why?"
"I don't know. I just have this feeling in my gut that won't go away. I don't feel ready for this test. Not today. Not anytime soon." I was on the verge of tears, and Maura could hear it in my voice.
"So then don't take the test today, Jane. We'll reschedule it for when you feel ready."
"I can't do that," I said sadly. "I need to get back to work, off of desk duty. I'm ready to go back full time. I know I am. But something doesn't feel right about this test. What if I fail it?"
"You won't," Maura said resolutely.
"I very well might, Maura. My practice runs had me coming in just under the cutoff by mere seconds. One trip, one limp, one pelvis wobble could make the difference between qualifying for duty and watching my position be filled by someone else."
"Cavanaugh would never do that to you," Maura admonished.
"He may not have a choice, Maur. He has orders from the mayor to bring in four new homicide detectives by the end of the month. He has dozens of candidates applying for those positions. He can't turn down qualified candidates to hold a position for me."
"You just shouldn't be so nervous, Jane. I have faith in you."
I looked at Maura, who had tilted her head up to face me. I kissed her deeply. "I'm thankful for that. I hope you'll still believe in me if I don't pass."
"My love for you is not predicated on your employment status, Jane. I would hope that I had proven that by now," she said, her voice soft but her no-nonsense tone unmistakable.
"You have. But I worry anyway. What am I going to do if I don't pass?"
"You'll try again on the next testing date." Maura said this as if it was the simplest and most obvious solution in the world.
"What if there are no positions open then?" I countered.
Maura shook her head. "I don't know, Jane. I don't have all the answers. What I do know is that you are stronger than you've been since you got hurt. You've been practicing. Emotionally you are fit for duty. This test is really only symbolic. Cavanaugh wants you back out on the streets and handling your own cases, and he's not going to sit idly by if you don't pass. He'll find a way to get you back into homicide full time, and off of desk duty."
"I'm scared, Maura." I couldn't raise my voice above a whisper.
"It's okay to be scared. Just go in there and do the best that you can, Jane. That's all anyone is asking of you."
I nodded, but wasn't convinced.
"I love you," Maura said. "Try to go back to sleep."
She started to rub small circles on my chest, just above my heart, the same way she would rub my thigh whenever we were seated next to each other. Eventually, the circles started slowing down, and then stopped altogether as Maura fell back to sleep.
I was still wide awake when the alarm clock went off at six. Maura rolled off of me and shut it off, then rolled back toward me, leaning in to give me a kiss.
"You didn't sleep again at all, did you?" she asked me.
"No."
"Oh, Jane." Maura's voice was pure sadness, and it made my own anxiety worse. I could hardly take a deep breath.
"I think I'm going to be sick," I said, sitting up suddenly as a wave of nausea hit me.
I ran into the bathroom and dry heaved into the toilet. Maura followed me in, and knelt down next to me.
"Jane, it's okay, sweetie. It's okay."
Nothing came up, and the nausea finally started to abate after the heaving stopped a few minutes later. Maura stood up and wet a facecloth, bringing it over to me. She sat down next to me, both of us with our backs against the bathtub.
"Here," she said gently, handing me the facecloth.
I took it from her and buried my face in it.
"I'm not going to pass, Maura," I mumbled from behind the facecloth.
"You will fail if you go in there thinking you will. Don't sabotage yourself. You've done this before. You will do it again."
"God, I hope so," I groaned.
Maura stood up and held her hands out to me. "Come on, you're never going to pass this test if you just sit there all day."
I took her hands and let her pull me up. I walked over to the sink and started brushing my teeth. She did the same. She returned to the bedroom to choose an outfit while I jumped in the shower. I turned the dial up as hot as I could stand it, so my muscles would be loose and limber. I admitted to myself that I felt okay, physically. I had very few aches and pains, and I was ambulating normally. These were all good signs.
I got out of the shower and dried my hair, styling it make it look halfway decent. In the year since my accident, a solid six inches of hair had grown back in on my head. It was still too short to pull back into a ponytail, but it was long enough for me to style. Most of the time it just looked shaggy. Parts of it curled, and parts of it were pin straight. I had several gray hairs, something I hadn't had before my accident. Maura had told me about people who went completely gray after a severe incident, and I was thankful that hadn't happened to me. I was looking forward to my hair growing out and finding a style that looked normal, at least for me. I was glad that the scars that covered my scalp after my surgeries had long since been hidden.
I walked back into the bedroom, and Maura walked into the bathroom. I gave her a small smile as we passed each other.
"Don't leave until I get out of the shower. I won't be long. I want to see you before you go."
"I won't," I promised her.
I pulled on a pair of running tights underneath a pair of regulation BPD sweats, a BPD athletics t-shirt and a BPD sweatshirt. The course I was running that day was outdoors, and the bitter Boston cold was going to work against me. In the year since my accident I'd noticed how much more sensitive my bones were on cold days. The warmer I was dressed, the better off I would be. I planned to run in the running tights, without the sweatpants, but I wanted to stay as warm as possible up until it was time to take the test.
I laced up my sneakers, thankful that there wasn't any snow on the ground. It was cold outside, but we hadn't had any freak snowstorms like we'd had last year. I was thankful I wouldn't be running this course in the snow. I'd never complete it if I had to wear boots.
Maura came out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel a short time later.
"Are you okay?" she asked me, wrapping her arms around me in a comforting embrace.
"I'm ready. I think." I sounded a little more convincing than I had earlier that morning, but that feeling in the pit of my stomach just wouldn't leave.
"Good. I can still come with you, if you want," Maura offered gently.
"No, you should go to work. I'll call you once it's over." I preferred that she didn't come. As much as I would have appreciated her support by having her there, I didn't think I could handle her seeing me fail if it came down to that.
"I'd feel better if you'd let me come with you." She squeezed my arm, trying again.
"I'd feel better if you weren't there, in case I don't pass," I admitted.
"Jane." Maura's face was so earnest. I was terrified of letting her down.
"I love you, Maura." The words were out of my mouth before I even knew I was saying them, but they were true, and she needed to be reminded of that.
"I love you, too. And I will still love you even if you don't pass. Stop pressuring yourself so much. Your entire life does not hinge on this test. There will be other opportunities if this doesn't work out today, okay?" She kissed me tenderly and then stood back to look me over. I must have received her approval because she let go of my arms and smiled at me. "Knock 'em dead, Jane Rizzoli."
I grinned at her, impressed that she'd finally gotten the phrasing right, then kissed her lightly on the cheek.
"I should go."
"I left a banana, granola bar and a bottle of water on the island downstairs. Eat and drink that first, then go," Maura instructed.
"I'm not hungry," I argued.
"You need the calories. That is a light, well-balanced breakfast. Trust me."
She kissed me on the cheek again, then pulled me in for a tight hug. "Good luck. Call me as soon as it's over."
"I will. It may be a while, I'm last on the list, and there's twenty cadets up before me."
"Okay." She didn't need to tell me that she wouldn't be able to function until she heard from me. I knew she'd be sitting in her office with her cell phone within reach the entire time. I silently said a prayer to a god I'd turned my back on years before to help me not let her down.
"Jane?" she called after me as I got to the top of the stairs.
"Yeah?"
She smiled at me. "I'm proud of you."
"I haven't done anything," I said, shrugging.
"You got up, got dressed, and are facing this head on. You're braver and stronger than you think."
I smiled at her. "Thanks."
I walked downstairs and ate the breakfast Maura had left out for me. She'd drawn a heart on a paper napkin and left it with my water bottle. I folded it and put it in the pocket of my sweatshirt as I finished up. Maura didn't believe in luck, but I did, and having that with me as I took that test was important to me. I fingered the note in my pocket for a brief second, then decided to leave her a note too. I grabbed a marker and scrawled "You're my everything" on a napkin. I left it for her with a bowl of British strawberries, and I grabbed my keys to head out.
I arrived at the police academy and parked my car, then checked in at the desk.
"You know the drill, Detective. Down the hall to the gym to warm up, then one of the testers will call you out onto the field."
"Thanks, Officer."
"Good luck, Detective."
"Thanks," I muttered. I didn't want him to know how much I felt like I needed it.
I made my way down to the gym and looked around. The place was filled with cadets stretching and jogging in place. The sheer level of anxiety in the room was palpable, and it didn't help me much. I walked over to the table at the front of the room and gave my name.
"Good to see you, Rizzoli."
I recognized the instructor from the last time I'd requalified, after I'd shot myself years before protecting Maura and Frankie from Detective Marino. He'd been a fair test giver. Some of those guys could deduct points for stupid things like having lint on your uniform. I wasn't a uniformed officer, so I wasn't testing in uniform, but still, it was reassuring to deal with someone so fair-minded.
"Testing is a little different since the last time you did this," he started explaining. "Instead of doing individual segments with physical fitness, firearms, and tactical driving, the course is set up to include all three. You'll start at the beginning of the course in an unmarked vehicle. There's a short tactical driving segment. You'll complete that then exit the vehicle, removing your firearm from the glove compartment."
"Okay," I nodded.
"From there you'll run to the tactical range we have set up. You need to hit all seven targets, but only five of them need to be in the marked zones on the targets. You will then run back to your vehicle, replace your weapon in the glove compartment, and continue in the opposite direction to the obstacle course. You must complete all obstacles."
"Right." I said. The only difference between this test and the one I'd done years earlier was that I'd had time to stop between tasks. Now everything took place all in one go.
"You have six minutes to complete the entire course."
"Six minutes," I repeated. I left the question mark off the end, because I didn't want him to know that I was questioning my ability to do the entire course in six minutes.
"Yes, six minutes. All recruits have six minutes to complete the entire test."
"Yes sir," I said, swallowing the bile that was creeping up the back of my throat.
"Go warm up. The first time qualifiers are going first, then we'll do your requalification."
"Okay. Thank you, sir."
"Good luck Rizzoli," he said solemnly. "And stop getting hurt so we can stop retesting you," he said jokingly.
I tried to laugh, but all I managed was a weak "Thank you."
I walked over to a mat and started stretching. Six minutes. I hadn't known about the way the test had changed, and I'd been working with Derrick on the old qualifications of five minutes just for the obstacle course. I had barely been completing the obstacle course in five minutes. Now I had six minutes to do the entire test. Three segments in six minutes. That was just two minutes per segment.
I wasn't worried about the tactical driving. I needed the least physical skill for that part. If I could complete that in a minute or less, that would give me five minutes to do the target shooting, also not a problem, and then run back to the obstacle course.
I still didn't know if I'd be able to do the entire course in under six minutes. I felt completely unprepared for this. Why hadn't anyone warned me that they'd changed the qualification tests?
As I stretched, I watched as they called two cadets out. Their classmates patted them on the back as they jogged out the doors into the cold morning sun.
If they were calling them out two at a time, that meant that one person stood and watched while the other competed. Since I was last on the list, that would give me the chance to watch the person in line ahead of me run the course. It would give me six minutes to plan. I was never so thankful that I'd been placed last on a list before.
It felt like only a few seconds had passed when the first two cadets came back in. Their slumped shoulders and slow strides let me know that they hadn't passed. I watched their classmates look at them as they went directly back into the locker room. I watched the fear appear on their classmates' faces. It was a reflection of my own.
Two by two, the cadets were called out. More of them started coming back in with grins on their faces, giving high fives to their classmates, but there were still a significant number of people who were clearly disappointed.
I wondered if the course was exceedingly difficult, or if this was just a class of cadets that simply needed more training. There had been a group of cadets in my class at the police academy that made great cops, but they'd needed a little extra time on the training field before they'd been given their badges. I had never been a part of that group, but at that moment, I wondered if my injuries had placed me there without me realizing it.
Soon there were just four cadets and myself left in the gym. I started getting queasy, wondering if the breakfast Maura had left for me had been a good idea after all. It had been well over an hour since I'd eaten, and I wasn't afraid of cramping up, but vomiting all over the obstacle course suddenly seemed like a distinct possibility.
Two of the remaining four cadets left when two more returned, jubilant smiles on their faces.
I removed my BPD sweats and did a few last minute stretches to keep myself warm in my running tights, and took stock of my body. Aside from the nervous butterflies, I felt good. No significant aches and pains. No wobbly pelvis. I jogged in place for a moment, and concentrated on my gait. No limp.
I took a few deep breaths, and waited.
"SAMPSON! AVILES! RIZZOLI! You're up!" The instructor barked from the front of the room. I jogged out onto the field with the two cadets as the two cadets before us came back in.
"Man, that field is merciless today," one of them muttered to his classmates as we passed them.
I swallowed hard.
Because we were the last group, the instructor that had greeted me followed the three of us out onto the field. I watched as the cadet named Sampson jogged up to the starting line. The course was set up in a large parking lot. There was a starting line, where one instructor stood with a stopwatch and another stood with a starting pistol. Two other instructors sat at a folding table off to the side, where they could see the entire course. Each held a clipboard. On the front of the table was a digital timer, the numerals big enough for the cadet being tested to see them from the field.
I took a couple of deep breaths as I examined the course. The instructor stood next to me as Sampson took off at the sound of the starting pistol.
"The digital clock is not the official time," he remarked. "Only what the stopwatch says is what we go by. The digital clock is more for you to use, to keep track of where you are in your timing."
"Okay," I said.
I watched as Sampson raced the unmarked cruiser through the cones that were set up, stopping just before the tactical range and racing out with his weapon.
"Does he lose points if he doesn't shut the driver's side door?" I asked, wondering why, if the cadet had to race back into the car, he wouldn't leave the door open for himself.
"No, he doesn't. And you're the only person who has ever asked that question. It's protocol to lock up your vehicle when you're on duty, but there's absolutely nothing in the testing guidelines that says you have to. In fact, he can even leave the car running. Nobody ever thinks to ask that. The fact that you asked that and no one else did is why you're wearing a detective's badge, and they're still cadets."
I grinned and continued watching. Sampson was a poor shot, and it took him eight tries to hit the markers on five of the targets, and a total of ten shots to hit all seven targets. He was losing precious time.
"Why didn't he roll and shoot there?" I wondered, watching his moves. "He could have come up firing. Is there some kind of penalty for rolling?" I asked.
"Nope," the instructor said.
I shook my head. Sampson either needed to get his ass in gear or start using his head. He barely had two minutes left to make it to the obstacle course.
When he did finally make it over to the obstacle course, I watched each obstacle.
"The obstacle course is shorter than in the old test," I remarked.
"Yes, we got rid of the rope climb and shortened the tire exercise. There's also only one set of each exercise now," the instructor replied.
Those were two events that would have played against me with my weakened pelvis. As I watched, I realized that I probably could do this in six minutes.
Poor Sampson tripped over the last tire in the exercise and had to pick himself up off the ground and continue running.
"Oh no, does he lose points for that?" I asked.
"No. The test was redesigned so that the entire thing revolves around your time. He won't lose points for falling, but he loses time, and I don't think he's going to finish within six minutes."
Sampson hopped the last wall jump and crossed the finish line. The digital clock gave a time of six minutes and nineteen seconds.
"Damn. Poor guy," I said.
"He can try again next month," the instructor remarked. I still felt bad for the guy.
Aviles took his position on the starting line and waited while one of the instructors repositioned the cruiser back where it belonged and reloaded the weapon. He took off sprinting as soon as the gun went off.
I watched him carefully. He was far better at this than Sampson had been, and he finished the test in five minutes and forty nine seconds.
"Ready?" the instructor asked me.
"I hope so," I said, taking my place at the starting line. I rolled my shoulders and took a ready stance as they moved the cruiser back into place and reloaded the gun.
"Go show 'em how it's done, Detective," the friendly instructor yelled to me as I shook myself out and psyched myself up.
I could do this. This was possible.
Quickly, I dropped my hand into the pocket on the front of my sweatshirt and fingered the napkin Maura had drawn the heart on this morning. She believes in me, I thought.
I took my hand out of my pocket and sprang forward as soon as the starting pistol went off.
I raced to the car, starting it and throwing it into gear. Momentary visions of the racing lessons Maura had given me years before flitted through my head as I aced the tactical driving. I brought the car as close as I could to the tactical firing range and threw it into park, leaving it running. I opened the glove compartment and grabbed the gun, readying it as I ran out of the car and into the firing range.
I dropped and rolled in, firing at the lower targets first and then the ones up higher. I hit all seven targets within the marked areas on the first try.
I pounded my way back into the car, throwing the gun back into the glove compartment and slamming it shut as I peeled out, racing it back toward the starting line. Back at the designated mark, I threw the car into park and raced toward the obstacle course. This was going to be the most difficult part, but a glance at the digital clock told me I still had three minutes and fifteen seconds, more than the two cadets that I had watched had had at this point.
I ran up and hopped over the first three cones, grunting at the pain it caused in my pelvis and thighs, but racing onward. I dropped and rolled under the first set of bars, then ran to the tire exercise. I tripped on the last tire too, but kept myself upright and kept running. I crawled under the razor wire and made sure to gather as much speed as I could for the fence climbing exercise. I jumped up and made it halfway up the fence, letting me pull myself up and over to drop onto the other side. I winced in pain when I landed, but kept moving. I zig-zagged through the cones and made my way to the last exercise- the eight foot wall- and picked up as much speed as I could. I ran and jumped, grabbing for the top of the wall.
I missed.
I slammed right into the face of the wall and slid down, grimacing in pain. Neither of the two cadets I'd watched had that problem. I was dazed, but knew enough to run back and try again, which I did. I was able to catch the top of the wall on my second jump and pulled myself up and over, but I knew I'd lost precious time. I dropped over the other side and bolted, head first, for the finish line, as fast as my legs would carry me.
I wound up stumbling across the finish line in the most ungraceful run I'd ever done. I was practically doubled over, I had my head bent far in front of me. My arms were flailing and my pelvis was ready to give out on me, but I crossed the finish line.
My chest felt like it was on fire, and I struggled to catch my breath. When I did, I looked up at the digital clock, the giant red 06:01 glaring back at me.
Six minutes. And one second.