"Mom,"
Maura is sleeping hard, and so she barely registers Sofia's harsh whisper. "Mom!"
She rolls over, one eye cracking open to take in Sofia's skinny form in the predawn.
"Whattimeis?" She mumbles, and then clears her throat, "what is it, Sofia?"
The teenager shifts from one foot to the other. "Mama's crying."
And the doctor is instantly awake. She sits up and looks towards the other side of the bed, needing visual confirmation of what her child is saying. There's no Jane.
"She's downstairs," Sofia says, and then, "She's in the living room. Crying on the floor."
Maura feels her heart speed up. "What happened? Is she hurt? Did you speak to her? Do you know what happened?"
Sofia shakes her head. "I went down to get water, and she was in there, sitting cross legged. I asked her what was wrong, and she said she just needed some time," Sofia pauses, only continuing when Maura nods encouragingly.
"She told me not to wake you," Sofia says quietly, biting her lip. "So I woke Levi and he said I should tell you..." she trails off, looking torn between worry and fear at breaking her mother's order.
"It's alright," Maura says, pushing back the covers. She is thinking of flashbacks and night terrors, few and far between now, but still ferocious when they come. She tugs one of her daughter's dark brown locks now, smiling. "It's alright, honey," she says again. "You did the right thing."
She meets Isabelle and Noah in the hallway, at the top of the stairs, and both turn their sleepy nervous faces to her as she nears them.
"You two should be sleeping," she says, even though she is touched by their concern for their mother. "You have to be up at school in a couple of hours."
But Isabelle shakes her head, looking distressed. She puts her finger to her lips and then points down the stairs. Maura falls silent.
For a moment, the three of them just stand there, but then Maura hears it, drifting up to them from the living room, The unmistakable sound of crying.
"Levi went down," Isabelle whispers, when Maura turns her shocked face to her. "Like, three minutes ago. He told us to stay up here."
Noah nods, peering up into the doctor's face with his own set of green eyes. "Is Ma okay?" His whisper is small, almost like a whimper. Maura tries to remember the last time any of them saw or heard the detective cry.
Two weeks ago, Levi had hit her in the thigh with a line drive, while they were playing baseball in the park. Maura had been running out onto the field even before the first expletive could fall from her wife's mouth.
Jane had said every swear word in the English dictionary, and three that Maura recognized as Italian. But she hadn't cried.
"Yes," Maura says firmly, resting her hand on Noah's cheek for a moment. She hears Sofia approaching behind her. "Stay here, you three alright? You know how Mama is about crying."
All of them nod, and watch as the doctor descends the stairs quickly. She rounds the corner to the living room reviewing in her head all the tactics that have worked to pull the detective back into reality in the past. But she stops dead at the sight.
Levi and Jane are sitting on the floor in the living room facing away from the hallway door. Jane's head is bowed into her hands, and her shoulders are shaking with the effort of keeping her tears under control. Levi sits close enough to his mother that their knees are millimeters from each other. He could easily put an arm around her shoulders. He doesn't, just sits next to her in silence. And although both bodies are blocking Maura's view, she knows what they are looking at, and she knows what has happened, and there are tears in her eyes too.
"Oh," she says quietly, and Levi turns to look at her, though the detective does not.
"Oh…oh, Jane."
…
"Jane? have you seen my Rocky Road? I could have sworn there was a carton of Rocky Road ice cream in the freezer last night."
Jane freezes in the hallway between the living room and the kitchen, spoon still in her mouth, empty carton of Rocky Road in her hands.
"Uh…"
"Jane?" Maura's voice is high, hinting at one of the tantrums that she's so prone to these days, and Jane closes her eyes, cursing silently.
"Umm…nnoMaur," She calls back, shaking her head at how full her mouth still sounds. She is really in for it now.
"What are you eating?" Suspicious and a little closer, and Jane takes three steps backwards, towards the living room, starting to panic. There is no way to prepare for the fury that her wife is about to reign down upon her. Eight months pregnant and large as a house, these days, Dr. Maura Isles seems to live for making other people cry. Or crying herself.
Jane looks around wildly, momentarily wondering if she could fit into the decorative trunk in the hallway by the front door, or if, hormone addled as she is, her wife will not think to look for her behind the coats in the closet. She decides against both.
"Crackers," she calls back suddenly, realizing that Maura has asked her a question. "I'm eating crackers."
Great. Nice save, Rizzoli. If the doctor comes around the corner now, and even gets marginally close to her, she's going to smell that unique combination of marshmallow, nuts and chocolate on her breath. Jane backs up again, and again she scans the room, her eyes sweeping over Jo Friday curled up in his bed by the couch.
Jo Friday.
"Have you seen the Rocky Road?" The question comes again. In her pregnancy, the doctor has become single minded and no less assertive. She is hungry and on a mission.
"Nnno," Jane calls again, staring at her tiny wiry haired little dog, wondering if she dares. "I haven't Maur. Is there anything else?"
There is a pause, like she might actually be considering…and then. "No!" Firm and definitive. "Are you lying to me, Jane?" Even blind, the doctor would be able to tell. Maura knows when Jane is lying or angry or so upset that she doesn't want to be bothered, and pregnancy only seems to heighten that sixth sense. "Did you eat my Rocky Road?"
Caught. It's now or never.
"Jo," Jane whispers urgently, and the little dogs ears prick up, eyes opening hopefully. "Come here, Jo Friday! Do you want a treat, girl?" Out loud, Jane tries to stall but all that comes out of her mouth is, "Uhhhh…"
"Jane," Sharp and accusing, Jane hears the stool in the kitchen slide out. Dammit. She is able to fool suspects on a daily basis, and yet this woman who takes thirteen minutes to get off the couch has the power to undo her. In the living room, Jo Friday stretches and sits up, looking at Jane expectantly.
Jane beckons her, not daring to call her again with her wife approaching, and miraculously….the dog begins to trot towards her.
She kneels down quickly when Jo reaches her, and offers her the empty carton. Jo sniffs delicately, and looks questioningly up at her master. Jane huffs, nodding vigorously, "now is not the time to grow a conscience, Jo Friday," she whispers desperately, "Eat the god damn ice cream and I promise I'll take you out every time you have to shit tonight."
Jo Friday does not need another invitation, and by the time Maura rounds the corner, the little dog is chewing happily in the carton, trying to make the most of his surprise meal. Jane glances at Maura's stunned face, realizing she still has the spoon in her hand. She shoves it into the back pocket of her jeans.
"I'm sorry, Maur," Jane says, watching her wife carefully. "I think Jo got your ice cream."
Maura stares, and Jane isn't breathing.
Normal Dr. Isles would question how Jo Friday climbed the five and a half feet to the freezer, removed the top to the ice cream, and ate it, without leaving so much as a drop anywhere along the way. Logical , rational Dr. Isles would back Detective Jane Rizzoli against the hallway wall and interrogate her, sharp green eyes full of suspicion, and, if Jane was lucky, amusement. But normal, rational, logical Dr. Isles is gone, and Jane watches the features she has come to adore soften into tears.
"JANE!" Maura wails, and she points at the dog and then whirls to face the detective, finger at her heart in dire accusation. "YOUR DOG," she screeches. "YOUR DOG ATE MY ICE CREAM."
Jane nods, trying to look upset and not burst into laughter, or cry in relief. Maybe she has sympathy hormones. Maybe they are both crazy.
"YOU. ARE. GOING. TO. GET. ME. MORE." Each word even and spaced, quavering as Maura tries not to cry. "And I never want to…never want to see JO FRIDAY….in this house…AGAIN…."
Jane nods and nods, glancing at Jo sitting in the doorway of the living room, head cocked as she takes in the screaming doctor.
"Okay, Maur," Jane says, bending to pick up Jo. It is August, and a couple nights in the dog house out back won't hurt Jo Friday. If Jane has to sleep on the couch one more time, she is going to go mad. "Okay…we're going."
"And not the Bodega around the corner, Jane Rizzoli. Drive to Fresh Market and get me the kind I like."
Jane fights the urge to salute. Those are her children in there, and she wants to be alive to meet them. She shuts the door quietly behind her, Jo still in her arms. She loads him into the car and they zoom away, Jane wondering if this is enough of an emergency to use the pop on siren she has in her glove box. She glances at Jo Friday, head out the window, tongue out in the breeze, and she chuckles. The little dog turns to look at her.
"Thanks for taking the heat," she murmurs. Jo Friday's tail goes. "She would have killed me. You're much too cute to kill. And you like the back yard…it's just for a week or so," Jane pulls to a stop at a red light, "Or who knows, Jo, She might be crying to hug you when we get back…this last month has been pretty crazy."
More tail wagging. Jane grins.
"Anyway…thanks, partner."
Jo Friday barks and sticks her little head back out the window.
…..
Levi stands quietly and approaches Maura in the almost doctor. "It's Jo," he says unnecessarily. Maura nods, reaching out to embrace him, realizing she has to reach up because his shoulders are now above hers, broad and muscular like his mother's.
"I know," she murmurs, "did she say anything?"
Levi shakes his head, and Maura glances by him towards Jane, who has not made any movement to acknowledge the doctor's presence. She nods and squeezes his arm. "Go see about your siblings," she says, and Levi slips past her towards the stairs, understanding.
She listens to the stairs creak a little as he ascends them, watching the detective's hunched shoulders shiver, the muscles in her back tensing under her tank top. For a moment she wonders if she should leave Jane by herself to grieve. Although she loves, loved, Jo Friday like he was a human part of her family, she knows that Jane's attachment to the little dog had gone beyond her own.
She is about to turn around, give her wife another couple of minutes, but Jane shudders, and sniffs, her head tilting a little bit, as though listening.
"Maur?" Deep and raspy saturated with tears, a plea. Maura crosses the room quickly, kneeling down next to her wife, glancing at the little dog bed, confirming what she already knows.
"Sweet girl," she says quietly, reaching out to push Jane's hair out of her face. "Honey, I'm so sorry."
Jane manages a nod, and when Maura puts the back of her hand against her cheek, she leans into it hard, accepting the comfort.
"She didn't…" Jane swallows, "She didn't come to bed…I woke up in the-in the night, and noticed she….that she…" But Jane doesn't get any further, and Maura pulls her into her arms as she falls apart again.
"I know, honey. I know…I'm so sorry, sweetheart." She has been with Jane coming up on 15 years, and she can count on one hand the times that her wife has allowed her to comfort her like this. "It's alright," she murmurs into the raven hair, and she's not saying it's okay that Jo is gone, but that it is completely acceptable for Jane to break down. "It's alright, honey…I know."
Jane shivers again and presses closer to Maura. Her words are muffled in the bend of the doctors neck, and so Maura feels the words rather that hears them.
"She was such a…a good dog."
…
It is four and a half miles from Cambridge to Mission hill, but with a tiny wiry dog and a giant double stroller, the roundabout way that Jane is forced to take is almost six. Still, the pavement under her feet feels good, and the weak April sun is just enough to keep her warm as she pushes onwards.
In their seats in the double jogger, the twins babble happily. Isabelle in particular likes these runs, and more often than not, Jane will see a tiny little fist pop up over the top of the stroller and wave merrily about, as though urging the detective on.
Maura is in the lab, overseeing the new wave of lab techs to come in, and never one to sit idly at home, Jane opts to jog to the park with the twins.
It's been almost a year since she's been to Mission Hill, pregnant Maura and then newborn twins kept her away from anything that didn't directly relate to a baby, but now, as she turns left up the steep incline that leads to the park, Jo Friday panting along beside her, she is filled with a sort of
The park is crowded. It's the first decent Saturday this spring, and everyone is taking advantage. Jane pulls the blanket from the little storage bin under the stroller, and spreads it out, grinning as Jo Friday runs in circles around the perimeter, yipping happily. The little dog watches intently as Jane unloads the food, jars for the girls and one giant sub for her. When the bag of chips drops onto the blanket with a soft crinkle, Jo Friday lets out one, soft whine.
"Don't you even think about it," Jane grins, lifting a pudgy little Sofia out of her side of the stroller. "Those are my chips."
But Jo Friday cocks her head and tips herself back onto her hind legs, and Sofia lets go such a delighted string of giggles, that Jane knows she will be sharing soon.
Baby number two is set gently onto the blanket and Jo Friday waits for Jane to settle herself down too, before coming to lie between Isabelle's little legs.
Jane looks the three little beings in front of her, all waiting patiently to be fed. Her heart seems to catch fire a little bit, with something fierce and strong.
Jo Friday fidgets impatiently.
"It used to be just you and me that came here," she says to the little dog, tossing her a chip that she catches midair. "Remember the time we came when Maura and I had a fight?"
Jo sits up, ears attention. "Dead of winter and you were so cold I had to carry you home in my coat." She tosses another chip and Jo catches this one too. Not used to being ignored, not to mention not fed, Isabelle and Sofia let go twin cries of indignation.
Forgetting the chips entirely, Jo Friday whirls around to lick their toes, first Isabelle and then Sofia, and then the little dog whirls back to face Jane, her little features clearly imploring the detective to make it right.
"Okay, okay," Jane says popping open a jar of applesauce. "Lesson learned. Feed the babies and then the dog. Got it." She scoots closer to the girls, reaching for a spoon, prodding Jo out of the way so she can begin to feed them.
"More than just you and me now, buddy," Jane says alternating between her daughters, smiling at the way that Sofia will lean towards the spoon even when it is not headed for her mouth. "More than Maura, even. You gotta be a family dog, now. Alright?"
Like she has heard, like she understands, Jo Friday moves to sit behind Jane, her little doggie back against the detectives.
Jane glances over her shoulder and feels tears begin to well up. Jo Friday is on alert, watching the people passing by with shrewd little eyes.
Jane turns back to the girls. She would never, in a million years, have pegged herself for the kind of person who takes her dog and her daughters to the park. The kind of person who likes taking her dog and daughters to the park. Or the kind of person who gets teary over a territorial little dog.
But at that moment, there's nowhere else she'd rather be.
…
It's light when they move again. Jane appears to have cried herself out, and she pulls away, sighing deeply.
"Alright?" Maura asks cautiously, and Jane moves to stand up, nodding.
The doctor is not sure when the children came down and settled on the couch, but when she helps Jane to her feet and turns around, she is not surprised to see them there, sitting closer together, waiting silently. Both girls have red rimmed eyes, like they've been crying, and even Levi looks a little scruffy. She notices that they have all dressed, that Isabelle is chewing the end of a granola bar, and she glances down at her watch at the same time Jane does, eyes widening at the time.
"Shit," Jane swears, "Sorry…sorry, guys," her voice is hoarse and rough, like she's just waking up. "I lost track of time." She rolls her shoulders.
"It's okay, Ma," Noah says, voice high and timid, "we're not mad."
Isabelle nods, "We loved Jo too, mama."
For a second, Jane looks like she's going to break down again, but then she smiles weakly, holding out her arms, and all her children come at once, crowding around their mothers and pulling them both in. Maura can't help but smile.
Jane is the first to pull away, wiping hastily at her eyes, trying on a grin. "I'll drive you guys to school," she says, "Just let me grab a-"
But Maura cuts her off, an idea occurring to her, "Let's play hookah."
All five of her family members look at her like she's got fourteen heads. She looks back at each of them in turn, smiling.
"Excuse me?" Jane says after a moment.
"Hookah," Maura repeats herself slowly. "As in…not going to work?" She waits, but the blank looks only become more confused. She frowns. "I thought we could take the day off, spend it as a family…you and I are on call, Jane and nobody got a lot of sleep….I just thought-"
But Jane bursts into laughter, and then Levi and Sofia are laughing too. "What?" Maura asks, feeling a little grumpy.
"It's…hooky…Mommy," Sofia manages between peals of laughter. "Hookah…is drugs."
"I miss Jo Friday like mad, Maura," Jane says, still chuckling, "But a day of drugs with the family won't help."
And Maura swats at her wife, but once her hand makes contact, she finds all she wants to do is hold on. "Oh…she says, fake glaring at Levi as he and Sofia burst into laughter again. "Alright…alright…I'll call the school, and we'll go out to brunch…where should we go?"
There is a pause and everyone looks at Jane, whose smile drops slowly off her face. She bites her lip. "Let's go to Joe's," she says after a moment, her voice dropping low. "We always used to bring her doggie bags from there…and…" She stops abruptly, and Maura nods, smiling at her.
"It'll be like a tribute," she says quietly, watching Jane swallow hard. "I think it's perfect.
…
"And there was that time Belle used her in the school play, Mom, remember?" Sofia is wiping tears of laughter away from her eyes, and next to her in the booth, Levi is laughing so hard that he has to hold his stomach.
Jane is shaking her head, "ugliest baby I've ever seen. I don't see why they couldn't use a baby doll."
"It had to be realistic!" Isabelle says defensively, leaning against Maura.
"Right…because a nine year old with a dog baby is as 'real life' as it gets," Jane says, but her face is soft and teasing. On her left, Noah wraps his arms around her, ever the sensitive guy. "She was the best," He says quietly, and Jane nods, glancing at Maura. "Better than a turtle, even?"
And Maura pretends to be offended, though she can't quiet muster it. It's nice, sitting there in a booth too small for all six of them, but loving it all the same. On the other side of Jane, Sofia grins at Maura.
"I like Bass. And Bass will live forever."
"Remember when Jo rode Bass?" Levi pipes up.
"Remember when they raced and Bass won?" Noah.
"Jo Friday got distracted by his very complex dog thoughts," Sofia reasons.
"He got distracted by the lint under the refidgerator…that's where May sweeps it all when Mom's not looking."
Maura really does manage a scandalized look this time, Jane looks sheepish. "When are we ever going to move the fridge?"
"We might move sometime in the future," Maura says, and Jane shrugs, looking sly.
"Someone else's problem, then isn't it?"
This makes Levi and Isabelle laugh again. And Maura is just about to comment on this, but then their food arrives, and everything turns to where is the syrup, hand me that ketchup packet, why is your elbow in my eggs.
But Jane is staring down at her plate, her face unreadable. Maura nudges Isabelle out of the way to lean forward across the table.
"Jane? is it okay? I mentioned to the waitress…and…I'm sorry I just thought that," Maura is speaking quickly, trying to read the detective's face, but before she can finish, Jane puts out her hand, silencing her.
With her other hand, she picks up the little trinket that adorns her bunny shaped pancakes: a tiny little plastic dog, like the kind you pay a quarter and twist the metal nob for. She holds it in the palm of her hand, directly over her scar, looking at it like it's the most precious thing she's ever received.
Maura and the children wait nervously, all eyes on Jane's face, as she turns the little dog over in her hand. She opens her mouth, and shuts it again.
"Jane," Maura says, starting to panic, "I-"
But Jane shakes her head, looking up at her wife, and then around at their kids. She leans over Noah and sets the little dog on the windowsill by the booth.
"Remember that time Noah sat on Jo?" She says, and her voice only shakes the tiniest bit.
Noah squawks in protest. "She was covered in snow! I was on a snow tube! How was I supposed to know?"
And suddenly the table is laughing and jostling again. But Jane catches Maura's eye and grins. I love you. She mouths, when none of the children is looking. You're my reason.
And Maura kisses two fingers and touches them to her heart, before digging in to her own brunch.