Maura watched her step down from the podium, those dark eyes on hers so openly wounded. It took Maura's breath away. Jane seemed only able to look at her, only able to see her. Jane's escaped tears had since been dashed away, but Maura couldn't help but see the pain that was still there in her gaze, couldn't help but imagine the tears were still falling. She had to look away. Those dark irises absorbed her, magnetized her into whatever emotion roiled behind them. This frightened Maura. It had frightened her last night, and it frightened her all the more now. It was an effect she could never reason away.
More to the point, she didn't want to.
In tearing her glance away from her best friend, she let her eyes drift from face to face. She landed on Casey first, still standing alienated beneath the live oak several yards away. Abandoning that vision, Maura scanned the rest of the crowd. Her eyes came to rest on a very familiar but unexpected face.
Rondo. He, like Casey, stood several yards away, observing the proceedings from afar.
He must have heard news of Frost's death from out on the streets, she mused.
She immediately whipped around to see if Jane had noticed him and to gauge her reaction. Jane had clearly not seen him. She was speaking in an undertone to Frost's mother, some distance away from Maura.
"You catch whoever did this, Detective," the woman demanded in a choked voice.
"I will do everything – everything – I can to find him and make him pay. I promise you," Maura could just make out Jane replying with quiet intensity. Her eyes flitted to meet Maura's but swiftly darted away. Frustrated, Maura looked back at Rondo. He met her eyes, glanced to Jane, and then returned his gaze to Maura. Then he looked to the coffin and back to Maura. Realization seemed to dawn in his dark face then, and he reached up and pulled off the knit cap he always wore and clutched it tightly before him. His usual boisterous charisma was completely deflated, and he cast one more sheepish, almost longing glance in Jane's before turning on his heel and walking away.
"Rondo!" Jane cried in a soft, broken voice, making him turn back. She'd seen him.
Maura ducked her head and stepped quietly aside as Jane brushed past her to greet her sometimes-C.I.
"Rondo," Jane said again as she drew near to him.
"Hey, Vanilla," he murmured in reply. Maura heard Jane choke back a sob at the nickname she'd always pretended to loathe. "I heard…I heard all about it. On the street. What happened."
Jane nodded, unable to speak above a whisper. "I thought you might."
He pinched and pulled at the cap in his hands. "I'm always listenin' out for you, Vanilla. And I…I'm sorry. We all liked Detective Frost. And he was your partner, so I know…"
Jane nodded again, tears spilling once more. From her vantage point, Maura ached to wipe them away. Jane dashed her wrist across her cheeks and beneath her nose. "Thank you for coming, Rondo." She put her hand on his arm. "Really. Thank you."
He nodded, reaching one finger up to barely brush her zygomatic bone, then stepped away. He turned abruptly to look Maura in the eye. He pointed at her. "You take good care of my Vanilla, Doctor Isles, hear?" Then he walked off before she could do more than nod. There was no room for debate with an edict like that.
Maura ducked her head again to avoid Jane's probing stare now directed at her. "I will," Maura whispered to herself. "Because God knows she won't take care of herself like she should."
Casey approached then, already reaching for Jane. "Let me take you home," he said softly.
She gave no indication that she'd heard him, staring blankly at the place Rondo had vacated.
"Jane, please. You really should rest." His pleading tone reminded Maura oddly of herself. She often took this tack with Jane when her friend struggled through difficult times.
When she came to the present, Jane patently refused to comply with her husband's urging. "No Casey," she said softly. "I think I'm going to go to work."
He released her, ceasing his gentle tugging on her arm. But he remained standing resolutely in place, looking her directly in the eye. "In your uniform?"
Jane looked down at herself as if realizing for the first time what she was wearing. "I brought a change of clothes. They're in the trunk." Her voice was quiet, toneless, matter-of-fact. The sound of it worried Maura far more than the broken whisper with which she had addressed Rondo.
Casey mashed his lips together, jaw clenched. "Then can I at least drive you to work?" he ground out.
"You can take my car back. I'll just get my clothes out and," she turned suddenly to Maura, "Maura, may I carpool to the precinct with you?" It was a testament to the lingering awkwardness from last night that she felt it necessary to expressly ask Maura's permission to ride with her.
Upon a brief but thorough examination of her own feelings, Maura found she harbored no resentment for Jane as a result of last night's drunken debacle. Nevertheless, she panicked. She wanted – she considered it a privilege – to help in any way that Jane would allow, to be there for Jane the way Jane had always been there for her. Yet, their kiss last night had served to heighten the intensity of Maura's already strong feelings for Jane, and as emotionally vulnerable as they both currently were, she feared being so near the detective now.
Her hands came together at her waist, fingers intertwining. She nodded meekly. "Yes of course."
The look of immense relief and gratitude on Jane's face struck a pang in Maura's heart.
"Jane," Casey interjected. "I can't let you do this. You're exhausted; I don't think you're ready to go back. You know, it's okay to take some time, stay home, let yourself grieve. You have the opportunity. Take it. But don't push yourself over the brink."
She rounded on him sharply, a small glint of her old fire returning to her eyes. "You think I'm not letting myself grieve?" she demanded. Her voice cracked precariously, but she kept on, softening only slightly at the look of surprise on his face. "Casey, I know you mean well, but I'm the only one who can decide how I handle…," she gestured vaguely to their surroundings, "all this." Then her voice once again dropped drastically in volume, its usual rich husk reduced to rasping whisper. "You have to let me do some things my way, okay? Just…" She trailed off, clearly unable to finish. She turned away, shaking her head, and practically fled to her car to retrieve her work clothes.
Casey dropped his hands to his sides with a sigh. "She won't let me help her," he murmured to no one in particular, but then his eyes found Maura, still standing some distance away. He seemed to plead with her with his gaze, asking nonverbally for any clue as to where he'd gone wrong. Maura, for her part, managed to convey sympathy in her returned glance, proffering a slight shrug that said, She's stubborn. It's not all you.
He hesitated a moment, but then approached Maura. "How are you, Doctor Isles?"
She had to be honest. "I'm just trying to process like everyone else." She debated a moment on whether to comment further and what to say, finally settling on, "Grief changes people. And it takes time to heal." The human body is remarkably elastic. It possesses an incredible natural ability to heal itself of almost any ailment or injury. The human psyche, on the other hand, is something of a paradox. It, too, is resilient, but also exceptionally fragile. Compared to the capabilities of the physical body, the psyche – that is to say, the mind and emotions; what some say comprises the 'soul' – is not nearly so robust.
"Frost was a good guy," Casey acknowledged. He looked off in the general direction that Jane had retreated. "I don't understand her, Maura." He sounded as though he was just reaching this conclusion now. "I love her, but I don't…get her."
"She is very complex," Maura agreed, feeling relatively safe in the reply. And no, she thought. You clearly do not understand her.
Seeing he would find no greater sympathy or explanation with the medical examiner, Casey saw his way clear to make an exit. "I should go." His steps faltered a moment, then he turned to face her once more. "You're always there for her. You always have been. And I…haven't." He sighed through his nose, clearly frustrated. "I guess I should thank you. For…keeping her in one piece, I suppose. While I was away. So…thank you, Maura."
She managed a weak smile. "It is always my pleasure to be there for her when she needs it." Though I didn't do it for you. Banishing further unkind thoughts, she headed for her Prius.
Jane met her halfway, looking even more drained than she had at the beginning of the service. "Maura, I…I'm sorry," she said, her voice breaking for the umpteenth time that day. She swiped away a tear, took a deep breath and huffed it out. "I'm not going to bullshit you with excuses. I know what I did, I knew what I was doing when I did it." She bit her lip. "I wanted it." She met Maura's eyes then darted her gaze away. Swallowed. "You're the easiest person ever for me to talk to, but there's times like right now where it's so…damn…hard to say what's actually going on with me. I can't tell you all the things I feel." She crossed her arms, clutching her own elbows. "I'm bad with words and I've…I've got a lot on my plate. Up there." She pointed to her head, then dropped her hand to pinch the bridge of her nose. She sighed as fresh tears leaked out of eyes now squeezed tightly shut. "I've just gotta figure some things out."
Searching her best friend's face, Maura felt her heart and mind stutter out of sync. She was so afraid to reach out and touch Jane, yet she wanted nothing more. Her fingers caught Jane's left hand as it fell from her face, capturing and cradling it in both of her own. She glided her palm over sharply protruding knuckles. Jane's eyes slowly opened, liquid brown meeting with green and gold in a neutral place of quiet peace.
"I'm so sorry, Maura," Jane whispered. "I can't say it enough. I just hope you can forgive me somewhere down the road."
Maura shook her head, at last finding the words. "There's nothing to forgive." She touched Jane's cheek for the briefest breath of a moment, fingertips brushing feather-light against temple and jaw. Jane was trembling almost imperceptibly, but in that moment Maura felt it. She's too weak even to push, she thought, wary of Jane's eventual efforts to drive away anyone who would get close to her when she was this wounded.
Grounded, Jane gave one last slow sigh and stood up a little straighter. She hurriedly brushed the last of her tears from her face and made for Maura's car. "C'mon. Let's bring this bastard down."