between your ribs

Progress... slowly.. is happening. Your reactions to this fic mean so to me!

Chapter Eight:

October 6th, 2015.

Phillips is letting Kyle go.

"Are you insane?"

Jane rounds on her the minute she hears, in full view of Phillips's team. Ito grabs at her elbow, hissing warnings from the corner of his mouth, but she shakes him off angrily. She had trusted Phillips. Trusted her team. Trusted they would treat Maura's case with sensitivity and determination and would stop at nothing to make sure everyone involved in the case goes down.

Phillips crosses her arms over her torso. "Excuse me, detective?"

"You're letting him go? You heard what he said yesterday and you're going to let him go?"

Ito grabs at her elbow again, whispering Rizzoli, walk away, but she ignores him.

"It was a tough call, detective," Phillips replies sternly. "Though he may have been an accomplice in the abduction, he didn't hurt Maura in any way and we need Melissa. He's going to give us her whereabouts in exchange."

Her voice is hoarse and raw. "After everything he did to help her in the first place, you really think he's going to give us her location? This is him stalling time for her. I didn't think you'd fall for such a stupid – "

"You ought to remember your rank right now, detective."

"Oh, is that it, huh?" Jane advances, until she's toe to toe with Phillips, jutting her chin out as she looks up at the agent. Phillips doesn't blink. "This is you pulling rank? You think you can swan in here with your fancy suits and technology and dictate our lives?"

"You're on my team, Rizzoli, and don't you forget it."

"No, you're in my precinct," Jane growls. "Maura's case was my case long before it was ever yours. Maura is my friend – so this is my decision!"

Ito's grabbing at her arm again, and this time she can't shake him off. He's pulling her back, curling an arm around her waist and she struggles against him furiously. No. They're failing her. They're failing – she's failing – they're failing.

"Get her out of here, Ito."

"Hey!" Jane barks, stabbing a finger in the air over Ito's shoulder. "You don't handle me, Agent!"

Ito finally succeeds in shoving her from the room, pulling the door shut behind him as he puffs his cheeks from all the exertion. Jane growls, swivelling on the spot and kicking the trashcan beside her. It bounces off of the wall from the force and trash scatters against the floor, only making the red she's seeing swell until it's not only blanketing her vision but curling around her skin, too.

"Damn, Rizzoli," Ito manages. "You're strong."

Fifteen minutes later, she finds herself in the precinct gym.

She's changed into an old BPD shirt and some sweatpants, pummeling into a punching bag. The gym is empty except for her and she spins, lands a solid kick against the bag and sends it flying. She catches it when it comes back, rolling her shoulders before bringing her hands up again and jabbing. Short, sharp bursts. It's not helping her anger, but it sure is exhausting her.

God, she is exhausted. There's no break from this – even when Maura had been abducted, long after, and everyone around her had tried to get along with their lives as if all was normal. There'd been no break for her. Her life had become muted without Maura and she didn't eat, didn't sleep, simply kept searching. And now she's back in Boston and she doesn't know how to help her, can't bring her justice, can't heal her mind.

All she does is wallow about it.

Landing one last right hook against the bag, Jane moves away, breathing heavy. She rummages through her bag and grabs her bottle of water, downing it desperately. Her skin is hot and sweaty and she wants to peel it all away, emerge from her own cocoon into someone new who has never known the pain of pulling her bones together each morning only for them to fall apart again at night.

As she moves back to the bag, she hears the door creak slightly. Without looking she knows that it's Phillips.

Jane goes back to her short, sharp jabs, keeping herself light on her feet. She's grown fitter since Maura disappeared. Though her diet had become a little unhealthy, exercise had been one of her only outlets. Long nights spent here in the precinct gym or mornings that she couldn't sleep through spent jogging for miles through the city. She'd missed someone there with her, though. Maura jogging beside her, facts rolling off of her tongue.

"Imagining Matthews?"

Phillips says it with a pointed look towards the punching bag, moving to hold it as it ricochets after each of Jane's hits.

Jane clicks her neck. "You, actually."

She aims a particularly hard punch against the bag, making Phillips laugh.

"I don't doubt that."

Silence falls between them for a few minutes. Jane doesn't look at the agent, but she knows she's watching her intently. Just continues punching away at the bag, throwing monumental force behind each punch as Phillips braces it against her shoulder.

"You here to throw me off of the team?"

Phillips frowns. "No I – I'm here to apologise, actually."

Jane falters before her next punch. "You are?"

"I am," Phillips confirms. "You were right. This was your case long before it was mine. I should've consulted you on the decision, at least."

"You're damn right you should've," Jane mutters.

Phillips winces as Jane kicks at the punching bag. High. Makes sure to keep her back straight as she curls her hands into her chest and pushes all of her force into her foot. Jane can't prevent the smirk that plays at the edges of her lips.

"I'm not going back on my decision, Rizzoli," Phillips says sternly. "I know you want to see everyone go down for this, I know you're seeing it in black and white, because that's what happens when you're close to a case. But look at the facts. Maura spoke positively of him. She treated him, even when his sister held her captive. Kyle abducted her, yes – but that's the limit of his involvement, besides bringing her food and books. What would he have been tried with, Jane? You know he would've been sentenced to a couple years at most, and probably – on good behaviour – would've only done a couple months."

Jane stops, hands swinging by her side as she pants.

"That's what Maura is like, okay? She's good. Maura is a good person. If Melissa had walked into that basement needing treatment, she would've helped her too. It doesn't matter to her. That's just how she is. That's how she's always been."

"I'm sorry."

Jane's jaw drops. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," Phillips says, shrugging. "I know Maura is the victim, and she's been through a hell of a lot more, but you've been through the shit too, Rizzoli. Everyone can see that. So – I'm sorry."

Jane clenches her jaw, shaking her head. The ends of her curls from her ponytail brush against the top of her spine and she closes her eyes against the feeling. Light, barely there. She can almost imagine it to be the tips of Maura's fingers. Imagines the warmth of her body behind her, breath against the slope of her shoulder, voice warm.

She shakes the feeling away, walking over to her gym bag. Phillips follows her and Jane begins unwrapping the fabric from around her hands. Her hand wraps are getting old now, a little worn from overuse.

"So has he given up Melissa's whereabouts yet?"

Phillips shakes her head. "No. We're trying to get him in contact with his dad now. Apparently he has no idea where Melissa is, hasn't known since Connecticut cops stormed his place and they both bailed."

"Could be risky," Jane points out. "Getting in touch with the dad. He's probably heard about us bringing in Kyle and Stone by now."

"Maybe. But it's worth the risk, right?"

Jane nods, tossing her wraps into her gym bag. "I guess."

Phillips shifts uneasily beside her.

"You know, all I've heard since I started running this investigation is how hard you'd searched for Maura. I don't just mean the department. I mean you. And now that she's been found, I barely see you leave this precinct. You practically live here. What are you afraid of, Rizzoli?"

Jane looks up, finds the green of Phillips's eyes, and thinks, Maura.

"Not everyone comes back as the person they used to be."

Ito catches her before she leaves the precinct that evening, pulling her into one of the observation rooms with his hand behind his back.

"This is all so sudden," she jokes.

"You wish," Ito shoots back, and then he produces a package from behind his back, holding it out to her.

"What's this?"

"I made copies of the footage. You know, the stuff Melissa captured of Maura?" Ito looks nervous, and she grabs the package, scared he's going to change his mind. She doesn't think the kid's ever gone against protocol like this before. "I know it's… It's a horrible thing to see. But after her reaction at the hospital, I thought maybe it'd help you understand it. Why she is how she is."

If she were a hugger, she thinks she would crush Ito against her. Instead she squeezes his shoulder roughly, smiling.

"You're a good partner, kid. You know that?"

Ito's eyes widen. "I'm Mr Ego, remember?"

Jo Friday curls around her feet as Jane settles on the couch that night. She places her laptop in her lap as she rummages through the package Ito had given her, looking for the disc labelled one. She knows that she won't get through all of the footage. Certainly not tonight.

She takes a swig of her beer as the disc loads up, pressing play hesitantly.

Maura.

She's tucked beneath the covers, face slack from drug-induced sleep. In the bottom right hand corner, the date and timer marks it as one in the morning, the day after she'd been abducted.

There's nothing for a long time, just Maura sleeping. She considers skipping to see what happens when she wakes, but finds she's perfectly content with this. This moment before the real fallout. Maura – though drug induced – is relaxed. She's unaware of what's ahead of her.

When Maura first wakes, she's still confused, a little drowsy from the chloroform. It's at least five minutes before she moves from the bed and begins searching for some form of exit. Studies the minimal room around her curiously, running up the stairs and tugging on the handle of the only door in the basement. It's this that triggers a response from Melissa, who flies in through the door and pushes Maura back down the stairs.

Jane looks away when Melissa begins stripping Maura, despite the way Maura fights against it. There's no sound, so she simply guesses when it's okay to look again, peeks back at the screen and finds Melissa pulling plain black sweat pants over Maura's hips, accompanied with a plain white tank top. The image is wrong. Maura would never wear sweat pants. Especially not ones that bunch around her ankles, a little too long for her legs. She feels the hairs on the back of her neck rise.

The first few days of footage that she scrolls through go as she expects. Melissa feeds her minimal food and is otherwise estranged from the footage. Maura paces for hours each day, presses her hands against the walls, as if she's waiting for some sort of trap door to fall open. Though she knows it won't, Jane finds herself wishing it just would. To save Maura from the months of torture she has ahead of her.

The first time Melissa hits her is eight days into the footage.

Jane hisses, looking away when Melissa lands a solid punch against Maura's stomach.

Jo Friday looks up at her, tail wagging.

When Jane dares look back at the screen, Maura is on the floor, curled up against the wall. Her mouth mouths one word again and again. Jane.

She presses eject on the DVD immediately. She can't do this – she thought she'd be strong enough, but after witnessing one punch she feels sick to her stomach.

Jane shoves the package of DVD's as far away from her as possible, chugging the last of her beer for courage. Shit. She's a mess. Maura dealt with this every day and she can't even handle an hour's worth of footage?

When she clicks back onto her laptop, she sorts through her files, looking through her photos. Some are older ones her mother had let her scan once, ones of her and Frankie and Tommy when they had all been kids, all scabby knees and lanky limbs. There are a few still lingering of her and Casey, older ones of her and Frost that she'll always keep, but mostly – they're just her family and Maura.

She's not big on taking photos, but there are photos here of Maura laughing. Smile wide, carefree. Their cheeks pressed together. Actually. She remembers that day – Christmas. Hadn't her mother taken a video?

She finds it quickly. Christmas 2013. Their last Christmas with Maura.

The video opens on Frankie, sitting beside Tommy, who's holding TJ up to the camera proudly. The little baby gurgles, producing a spit bubble and Jane chuckles softly. She needs to remember to call Tommy. Have some time with TJ. Her nephew's young innocence always makes her worries melt away.

Angela moves from the front room to the kitchen – easily, since they're all in Maura's house – and Jane holds her breath when Maura and herself appear onscreen, fussing over the turkey.

"Jeez, Ma. Get that thing out of my face," she complains onscreen.

"Jane," Maura admonishes. "I think it's a lovely idea, Angela. Documenting special occasions is always useful for looking back on fond memories – "

She finds herself laughing when the onscreen version of herself fixes Maura with a look.

"Maura. My hand is currently up a turkey's ass. This is not my idea of a fond memory."

Maura chuckles as Angela chides her for her language, but onscreen she just rolls her eyes.

"I do wish you'd let me stuff the turkey, Jane. I'd be perfectly happy – "

"Oh no. I've seen what kind of fancy French stuff you were going to put in this turkey's ass. You are going nowhere near it. Plus, I know you'd be pulling out pink gloves – "

"They're black actually," Maura interjects. "Pink was out of stock."

The video fades to black slowly, fading back in to reveal them all sat around the table eating Christmas dinner. The colours are rich, golden lights around them and paper hats on their heads, looking like idiots. TJ sticks his hand straight into a pot of mint sauce and Tommy groans, scooping him up and rushing off camera to clean him.

"Crackers!" Angela calls out, waving one in front of the camera lens. "Time for crackers."

Opposite her, the onscreen version of herself picks one up and holds it out to Maura who sits beside her. They're both wearing ridiculous Christmas sweaters – probably due to her mother. Maura frowns, watching as Angela and Frankie tug on their crackers, ridiculous prizes spilling out of them.

"Jeez, Maura, just tug on the other end," Jane says, and then chuckles. "That's what she said."

"Jane!" Angela chides.

Maura wraps her hand around the cracker, frowning. "This seems a little pointless…"

"It's fun, Maura."

"Well, I know this is a British tradition, but it seems unfair. Though I do yoga and jog with you, it's mostly my core that's strengthened. You're very clearly stronger than me – you've a naturally muscular body – "

"Muscular," Angela repeats grumpily.

"Oh, no, I think Jane's muscular frame is very beautiful," Maura assures her. "She is extremely well toned. That strength is viewed as attractive to – "

"Just pull the damn cracker, Maura," the onscreen version of her says, blushing furiously.

The struggle over the cracker lasts no longer than five seconds, Maura's eyes widening in surprise when she ends up with the larger portion of the cracker.

The video is almost fifteen minutes long. Jo Friday jumps up onto the couch beside her and she allows it, running a hand across the dog's back lethargically, watching memories of their happier times. Exchanging presents; TJ attempting to pull at the wrapping paper around his; Frankie spilling eggnog down his shirt.

And later, when her brothers and nephew have left, and her mother is cleaning the dishes despite everyone's protests. The camera left on the side, at just the right angle to capture herself and Maura watching a Christmas movie. Home Alone, she thinks it might be, based on Maura's criticisms of the plausibility. The room is darker now, warm, and they're tucked beneath a blanket on the couch, Jane watching Maura with something longing in her eyes.

"Merry Christmas, Maura," Jane murmurs.

Maura's eyelids droop and she smiles sleepily, pillowing her cheek on Jane's shoulder.

While watching, Jane finds her hand reaching for the same shoulder automatically, fingers closing around nothing.

"Merry Christmas, Jane."

TBC