Tommy drove the familiar route to Beacon Hill, though it had been quite a while since he had made the trip. No one had particularly taken sides in the divorce – blood relation gave Jane no favor during the whole ordeal, and Maura had become much too loved for the family to even dream of cutting off ties with her. If anything, the Rizzolis had sided equally against the two women, their divorce easily the most devastating and frustrating occurrence to strike the family in recent years.
Tommy, however, had always had an underlying fondness for Maura, which extended much beyond his initial attraction her. Perhaps it was Jane's tendency to treat him like an irresponsible child, a tone of annoyance in her voice every time she addressed him, while Maura had taken notice of his underlying intelligence, always taking time to strike up meaningful conversations with him.
Upon his arrival, he rang the doorbell twice, with no avail. As a final resort, he reached for the knob. He jiggled it, and upon finding the door open, he entered without hesitation. The house looked the same as it always had – immaculate and ornately furnished, filled with pieces of odd, contemporary artwork. However, her home now lacked the homey feeling Jane had brought to it, often leaving her holster on the front table, or her shoes poking out from beneath the coffee table. The changes were subtle, but they left Tommy feeling somewhat melancholy.
"Maura?" he called into the silence.
No answer. He stepped into the kitchen, which held no sign of Maura – or even any recent usage. He heard a faint rustling from behind the counter, and as he took a step to examine the source of the noise, he noticed a small head poking out from around the island corner.
"Oh, hey Bass," he muttered, watching the ancient tortoise peek out from beneath his shell.
He tried again, "Maura!" Perhaps she wasn't home, though it didn't seem likely that she would have forgotten to lock the door. Maura may have become distant, with a tendency to consume herself intensely in her tasks, but she was far from scattered-brained or negligent.
Tommy ventured toward the back hall, which housed the bedrooms. Sure enough, he found the guest bedroom door ajar, the faint sound of furious typing escaping from sliver opening. He knocked lightly, again with no response, so he took the liberty of nudging the door open.
He took a step back, the unfamiliarity of the room assaulting him. She had apparently converted the bedroom into some sort of workspace; the walls were lined with sheets of paper, all covered in rows of complex data. She had set up three laptops at various stations in the room, one at which she occupied, standing in front in the screen in an agitated manner. She was bent over the keyboard, her brow creased in rigorous concentration, muttering unintelligibly under her breath.
Maura had stopped working at the Boston Police Department over a decade ago now. And old friend from BCU had offered her a position in a groundbreaking research project, something involving stem cells and cancer– Tommy had never paid attention enough to understand exactly what it was that Maura had so vigorously delved herself into. He could only link this project to the noticeable decline of her and Jane's marriage, as it added tension and distance to their relationship, which neither of them had been quite equipped to handle after years and years of comfortable routine.
Tommy could only assume that the conversion of the guest bedroom into a laboratory was linked to this research, or at least something related. And, from the looks of it, retirement did not seem to be looming in her impending future. In a moment of sad realization, Tommy realized it was probably all that she had left.
He turned his attention to back to Maura. She had aged well, still easily passing for a decade younger than she really was. Today, however, she looked possibly that most frazzled that Tommy had ever seen her, even through two pregnancies and the early years of motherhood. She wore only an oversized t-shirt, with faded print adorning the front. She had pinned her long hair up into a messy bun, the roots now noticeably gray. Though she had always kept her figure lean over the years, she looked almost frighteningly thin now, sending Tommy's mind back to the unused kitchen. Perhaps she wasn't quite as put together as Tommy had assumed her to be.
"Maura!" he addressed her again, his voice sharper, louder.
This time, he drew her out of her concentration, her head snapping up, looking confused and dazed as he beckoned her back to reality. It was just for a moment, however, when a loud beep from the computer drew her attention back to the screen. "Just give me one second." The furious typing began again.
Several seconds passed before Tommy let out a hefty breath, crossing the expanse of the room, flicking the screen of Maura's laptop closed with sudden force. She withdrew her hands out of instinct, the click of the screen startling as she stepped away, unable to speak for a moment. "I was in the midst of a very important correspondence," she muttered irritably, flexing her fingers as she reached for the computer again.
Tommy firmly planted his hand atop the closed device. "Maura," he searched for her eyes, his heart hurting when he saw such bewilderment and detachment there. "When was the last time you ate?"
The question was simple, but she found herself floundering for an answer. She averted her eyes from his, picking nervously at the hem of her shirt. She took the route of avoidance, cocking her head slightly as she seemed to fully register his sudden appearance. "What are you doing here?"
The news was too startling to saddle upon her in such an abrupt and thoughtless manner, and he wasn't even quite sure she had fully immersed herself back into reality. Giving her a moment to fully surface seemed to be in his best interest. "Come to the kitchen and eat something. Then we'll talk."
She looked a bit miffed, but her curiosity (or perhaps her hunger) got the best of her, and she followed him. Tommy rummaged through the fridge, finding nothing but a jar of pickles, an unopened jug of orange juice, and a nearly empty bottle of mustard. The cabinets offered him no more luck: a can of chickpeas, a box of gluten-free pasta, and a jar of marmite. He darted a sideways glance at her, as she leaned up against the granite countertop, her eyes already lost again.
"Honestly, I don't know how you're not dead right now," he sighed, rummaging in the lower cabinets. "Aha! Jackpot!" he exclaimed, unearthing an unopened box of Cheerios. "Now eat."
She looked startled as he slammed the box down in front her, though she reluctantly obliged, prying the cardboard box open. "You still owe me an explanation for your sudden visit." She popped a couple Cheerios into her mouth.
"And you still need to eat more so I won't worry about you keeling over," Tommy raised an eyebrow. She looked somewhat irritated as she reached for another handful, pointedly shoving an ungraceful scoop into her mouth. "Hey, isn't that one of Jane's shirts?" Tommy had finally made out the print, deciphering the text to read 'Property of Boston Police Department.'
Maura stopped mid-chew as she looked down at her choice of clothing. Her cheeks turned pink, her eyes finally sparking with a hint of the Maura Tommy remembered. "She left a handful of items here after she moved out," Maura muttered softly, leaving no further explanation. She continued to gaze at the shirt for a moment longer, before reaching for another handful of Cheerios.
"You doing okay, Maura?" Tommy asked as nonchalantly as he could manage. Sure, Maura had always had trouble relating to others to some degree, but she was particularly catatonic and robotic today. He wondered when she had last interacted with another person, outside of her research correspondence. He wondered if she had any friends left at all. His throat tightened, watching her once again. She had averted her gaze to the window, where a robin had perched on the outside sill.
"What was that?" she muttered, reaching absentmindedly for the collar of her shirt. A beam of light refracted off her fourth finger, and Tommy watched the light dance against the golden band for a moment, his stomach only growing tighter.
At last, he let out a weighty breath, watching Maura carefully. "I'm here because of Jane."
He saw her body noticeably stiffen, though she kept her eyes focused intently out the window. She lowered her hand back to the countertop, waiting in baited anticipation.
"She's in surgery right now. Got herself into an accident," Tommy explained less eloquently than he had hoped.
Still no response.
"Actually she's out of surgery now. Frankie just texted me," Tommy added, his voice forcefully cheery as he fiddled with his phone.
More silence, before she pivoted away from the counter. "I need to get back to work now."
"Wait, Maur-" Tommy attempted to reason with her, though he wasn't quite sure what he had expected from her. He was beginning to question his decision to come here at all.
He watched her disappear behind the guest room door once again, letting a frustrated breath out through his teeth. She was in no state to be reasoned with - she wasn't even in much of a state to be reached.
But as he turned, making his exit, he made out the hushed sound of muffled sobbing escaping from behind the closed door.
A/N: More of their divorce will be explained in later chapters. Also, sorry that Maura's research is so vague. I figured it was probably best to leave it more ambiguous rather than delving into stuff I really know nothing about. If anyone has better ideas or insight about a research position for Maura, feel free to let me know. If not I'm planning on leaving it vague.
Also, sorry this chapter was an angst fest. I promise this story isn't going to be unbearably depressing. While it is a darker topic, Jane and her snark will be around soon to lighten things up :)
Thanks so much for all your support. Hearing what you think means a lot :)