between your ribs
A thousand apologies for the delay. It's coursework and exam time at uni, and I haven't wanted to force myself to write because this chapter is incredibly important. I hope I did it justice. Enjoy.
Chapter Seventeen:
February 1st, 2016.
She can hear Maura fussing down the hallway, muttering to herself as she undoubtedly holds up different outfits for the event tonight. Jane struggles into the plain black dress she'd bought for the occasion, spitting out the curls that get trapped in her mouth as the fabric slides over her face. Pushing her hair to one side, she studies herself. She is unwilling to admit that she feels as though her knees might begin to knock together from how much she's shaking. So she turns away and grabs the heels she will only grudgingly wear, applying a little mascara before she heads down the hall to Maura, heels hanging from her fingers.
Maura stands in a familiar silk robe that only reaches her mid-thigh, tied loosely at her waist. It gapes slightly around her chest and reveals a little more cleavage than normal, making Jane practically stumble. That catches Maura's attention and she feels her face growing beetroot red as she catches herself on the wood of the doorway. Trying to play it cool. Maura doesn't comment, but when she turns away, Jane swears she sees a smirk playing on her lips.
Jane drops the heels to the floor with a low thud, following Maura into the room as she stands with her hands on her waist, glaring at three dresses she's laid out on the bed. She stops by her side.
"You're the reason stereotypes like this exist, you know."
Maura rolls her eyes. "It's important that I look professional but good at the same time."
Jane arches an eyebrow. "Who decided you needed to look good, the board or you?"
This time, it's Maura's turn to blush.
"Well, we can't both wear black," Maura decides, grabbing the black dress from her bed to hang it up in her closet again. Jane stares at the remaining two dresses.
As Maura stops beside her again, Jane leans over and grabs one of the dresses. A long-sleeved one that will cover the scar on Maura's right forearm. It's a cobalt blue colour that, apart from the asymmetric neckline, is otherwise relatively plain. Perfect.
"You look good in blue," she mumbles, feeling her face grow hot again as she practically shoves the dress at her.
Maura's mouth twitches a little at the comment. She holds the dress hesitantly before looking up at Jane. She understands immediately, turning her back and facing away. She hears the sound of the silk robe falling to the floor in a whisper before there's the slide of fabric against Maura's skin. She closes her eyes and counts back from ten, willing the blush to stay away from her skin. Before she'd been taken, she'd seen Maura in her underwear countless times, and apart from when she was drunk or too tired to think straight it hadn't been something she had focused on. But now… now everything is different. They're different. And Maura is in her underwear. Barely even a foot away from her.
"It's not right," comes Maura's soft voice behind her.
She turns, words caught in her throat as she catches sight of her. The dress finishes just above her knees, hiding the scar on her thigh. Her eyes travel up, tracking the way it clings to the flare of her hips and dip of her small waist, up and over her chest and – there's a scar she hasn't seen before. Maura's hands cover it when Jane's eyes land there. She steps forward and pushes them away gently before her fingers press against it. It looks like similar to the ones Hoyt had given her. Barely more than an inch long, sitting just above the swell of her breast. It's a little faded, not enough to be completely unnoticeable, still a light pink colour.
"I tried to get out, once. I had a glass with water, smashed it, and waited with a piece to try and get her. But I had been too weakened by that point, too malnourished to concentrate properly. She'd just grabbed it from me and fought back when Kyle walked in," Maura explains, and then her hands join Jane's on top of the scar. "He stopped her. I know he's done wrong, but during that time he did some things right."
Jane breathes in, deeply, slowly, and finds that it calms her. As does the touch of Maura's hands against her own, the way her eyes implore her for some sort of reassurance.
"Yes, he did," she finds herself agreeing.
Maura smiles a little. Their hands fall away and she tugs at the dress self-consciously, before her hands raise to her shoulders.
"Does it – I mean, can you - ? "
She turns a little and Jane sighs, pressing her fingers against the familiar burn scar that encompasses Maura's left shoulder blade. The asymmetric neckline reveals, like the scar on her chest, this one too. Maura shudders a little when she realises.
"Hey, hey – you're gonna ruin your make up or something," she murmurs, sidling around to see tears gathering in Maura's eyes. "You worked so hard on that, didn't you? I could hear you grunting like you always do when you do eyeliner from all the way downstairs."
That, thankfully, makes Maura laugh. The tears do not fall, but, still, Maura's fingers press against one of her scars. Jane purses her lips.
"You could probably change your dress, or spend time covering them with make up," she says airly, studying Maura's reaction. When she looks as though she's actually considering it Jane softens her tone. "Or you could go out there and show them how strong you are."
Maura huffs. "Jane – "
"No, I'm serious. That's what all of this is for, right? If the whole point is to help victims of abuse, why hide the marks that show you survived it yourself?"
Maura struggles to find a logical answer, her eyes closing and brows furrowing in frustration. Jane reaches out and brushes her fingers against the faint scar on Maura's forearm.
"I don't know that I…" Maura pauses. "I don't know if I'm ready to show anyone but you what's happened to me."
Somewhere, deep down, she feels a part of her doing backflips at the recognition of how much Maura cares for her. The rest keeps a tight lid on the emotion and stops her from really doing cartwheels.
"There's only one way to find out."
Maura turns away, studying herself in the mirror again. The scar across her shoulder cannot be hidden, but the one on her chest is barely noticeable. Regardless, she understands the desire to hide the proof that you have hurt.
Without saying a thing, Maura turns away from her reflection, slipping her feet into a pair of black heels she pulls from her closet. There is something small about her, still, something vulnerable. As she grabs a strip of Prozac and shoves it into her bag, hands shaking, Jane reaches out to take one, squeezing gently. Reassurance.
Maura lets her hold her hand during the entire car ride.
The room is busier than she expects it to be as they step into the reception. Maura drops her hand and moves away as she spots one of the investors she gets along with well and Jane watches her go, curious. Maura keeps her shoulders straight, holding her chin up, any emotion she had shown earlier hidden by the hard glare she gives those whose eyes flicker to her scars. As if daring them to say anything. They don't, and turn away with the decency to look ashamed, and then Maura is engaged in conversation just like any other person in this room, perfectly normal.
She catches Jane's eyes over someone's shoulder and smiles.
Now that she is convinced Maura can manage on her own, she begins to search through the crowd for someone that she knows, tugging a little uncomfortably at her dress. She spots Constance speaking with Arthur at the bar – she is yet to be introduced to Maura's dad – and scopes the rest of the room for some members of her family. Eventually she catches Frankie as he passes by and follows him to the table her Ma is sitting at, sipping at a glass of champagne.
"Ew, really? That's all they have?" Jane complains, kissing Angela's cheek in greeting. "Hey, Ma."
"It's champagne!" Angela protests as Jane slides the glass away from her place as though it has offended her.
"Exactly."
Frankie snorts before Angela nags him into finding Tommy and TJ. Jane watches him go, poking her tongue out when he looks back at her for help.
Ten minutes later, Frankie drags Tommy and TJ over to the table. Her nephew escapes his father's grip and climbs up in her lap, looking around for Maura. She smiles and presses a kiss to the back of his head.
"Same, kid," she murmurs.
The chatter dies down eventually and Constance and Arthur join them at their table, shaking hands. Arthur surprises her. He is the opposite of everything she had been expecting. So tall and grand compared to the small fierceness of Maura. She wonders how much space they had spent apart to refrain from him swallowing up all the room. Maybe this is why Maura had always learned to be quiet, she could never compete with the low boom in his voice. But his hand is sweaty when he shakes hers, glancing at Maura out of the corner of his eye as she takes her seat at the table. Dinner is served and Maura does not look at him once. She makes a mental note to ask about this strange dynamic someday.
Jane slips one of her feet out of her heels and knocks it against Maura's leg.
Maura hides her smile by taking another bite of food, knocking back.
Once the desserts have been finished and everyone except Maura has an empty plate, merrily buzzed and a little flushed in the face from alcohol, the lights dim slightly and focus on the stage. An older woman with a worn and weathered kind of expression takes to the podium, barely taller than it. Jane frowns but Maura simply grins.
"That's Nellie," Maura whispers when the woman begins to welcome the guests, leaning over so that her lips almost graze Jane's ears. "Her daughter was murdered after she escaped an abusive relationship. She approached me only a week ago to help the charity. She's been a big help."
"In one week? Just like that?"
Maura turns away from staring up at Nellie to watch Jane.
"Yes. Just like that," she murmurs softly.
Jane's throat clogs, too many responses tripping over each other, eager to make their way out. By the time she manages to open her mouth Maura is being called up to the stage, Constance leaning over to kiss her daughter's cheek. She watches her go, still speechless.
As Maura climbs the steps, the harsh lighting only serves to highlight the burn scar on her shoulder blade. Jane hears Constance and her own Ma make soft sounds of surprise behind her but she doesn't dare look away. Once she steps up to the podium, the lighting is much softer – she hesitates slightly under it, eyes scanning the crowd until she finds Jane's. She sends her a thumbs up and an encouraging smile and Maura finally finds the ability to take a deep breath and begin to speak.
"Thank you, all of you, for coming and donating and helping us in whatever way you have," Maura begins. "I already know that this charity is going help a lot of women, no matter what path it is they take to join us. I only hope that one day they will feel as safe and secure as I do now, despite everything that has happened to me."
Maura pauses, allowing people time to clap. Jane rolls her eyes teasingly.
"I'd just like to take a moment to thank the people who have made this possible. I don't just mean financially, but those who have supported me without fail, no matter what choices I have made. My family – my mother, my," she hesitates. "My father. Angela Rizzoli, who means more to me than she knows, as well as Frankie and Tommy, who are like brothers to me."
Angela grabs her serviette from the table and dabs at her watery eyes with it, TJ crawling from Jane's lap over to her. Constance reaches over to squeeze Angela's hand. She watches them for only a moment before turning back to Maura, finding her already watching her.
"And Jane," she says softly. She hesitates, as though she has more to say, but Jane just shakes her head.
She doesn't need speeches over expensive dinner and fancy champagne.
She does, however, need to hold Maura's hand beneath the table when she returns, out of sight of everyone else, like they're alone, like they're in love.
Maura is already reaching out for her hand when she takes her seat.
February 6th, 2016.
Jane yawns, finally finishing the last of the dishes and wiping the soap suds on her sweatpants. She turns to watch Maura, who is nose-deep in paperwork. She has been ever since her charity officially launched – they already have two women's shelters being built in different parts of Boston thanks to fundraising. Most of it is just legal spiel that she doesn't pay attention to, but the way Maura's eyes light up whenever she talks about the progress they've made in such a short time is enough to make her stomach flip. Even now, the privilege of watching Maura like this, soft and unguarded, swathes her in an emotion she's unable to describe.
They still haven't spoke of when Jane will leave, now that the trial is over and Maura is safe. Instead, Jane has moved the majority of her things into the closet in the guest room as well as Jo Friday's bed. Maura bought a dog bowl for her the other day. She gets the feeling Maura worries that she might leave. Well, she won't, not unless she's asked.
"I'm gonna go to bed," she tells Maura, who jumps at the sound of her voice. She laughs. "Sorry, I didn't realise you were so into that."
"No, no – I should probably call it a night too," Maura laughs softly, gathering the paperwork and slipping it into a file before rising from her seat.
Jo Friday dances around her ankles as she takes the stairs, Maura right behind her. The dog shoots off into her room – no doubt jumping up onto her bed no matter how many times she's told her not to – leaving them alone as they pad bare footed down the hallway. She brushes her hand against Maura's.
"Reyes is thinking about taking me off of my medication," Maura says into the silence. They stop outside of Jane's door. "Usually they don't take anyone off it so soon, the affects of PTSD are so varied, but… she thinks I'm ready. "
"Are you?"
Maura looks up at her, tilting her head slightly. "Yes. I think so."
She has grown used to the sight of Maura taking a vitamin every morning along with the little white and green Prozac pill, as well as one before lunch. It is just one of the faint reminders that things are different. But, now, knowing that Maura has overcome so many obstacles that she herself could probably never face –
Things are not different at all. Maura has always been this strong.
"That's good, Maura," she tells her, reaching out to squeeze her hand. "You know that, right?"
In the half-light, she watches Maura smile.
"Yes. I do."
Jane moves to follow Jo Friday, but Maura stays rooted to the spot. She raises her eyebrows and turns back curiously.
"Maura?"
Maura pushes up on her toes, slowly, uncertain. Jane's frown deepens when her hands cup Jane's cheek. And then everything begins.
She closes her eyes at the feel of Maura's lips against hers. The kiss is slow, soft, reminds her of warm summer nights as a kid when she'd watch the stars and feel some deep rooted sense of content that she hadn't a name for. Before she really has the chance to cherish the kiss, Maura's lips and her hands are gone, and she drops back down onto flat feet, eyes twinkling.
"Goodnight, Jane," she murmurs.
Maura pads away softly, her figure blurring away into the shadows of the hallway. She waits for a beat, considering letting her go.
For the first time since Maura has been found.
She pushes.
Jane grabs her wrist, twisting her back around. Maura collides with her chest to chest, eyes wide, mouth opening to say something but hasn't a fraction more of a moment to process anything before Jane kisses her.
She does not give her slow and soft, but grips her tightly around the waist, taking and taking and taking. Warmth twists in her stomach, animated and erratic, when Maura whines low in the back of her throat. Maura's hands finally settle on Jane's arms, gripping tightly when their tongues meet, pushing on her toes to give as good as she can in return. And Jane momentarily realises the importance of living for the now. She wants to live in this now time and time again, feel Maura's soft waist in her grip, hands moving away and up, cupping her jaw and tilting her head up, wanting to live here too, on this soft skin that she wants to leave marks against, the first marks of happiness in years, and here, now, her hands in Maura's hair fisting tightly and Maura whimpering against her. She feels time unravelling around them like a bandage, their wounds finally healed.
Jane pulls away suddenly, assessing. Maura stares up at her, slack jawed and dazed.
"Goodnight, Maura," she murmurs, smirking before slips from her grasp and down the hall.
She glances over her shoulder to see Maura still standing there, skin flushed, eyes closed, fingers pressing against her swollen lips.
TBC