A/N: Thank you for the amazing support. This has been a blast so far.
Chapter 3: The Room
William was sound asleep next to her. The first two nights he had been with her, he had wet the bed. She had never been easily repulsed by any kind of human fluids. Still, she had actually marveled about the fact that, when the warm liquid had seeped through her clothes that night and left the mattress they shared with a wet spot they later tried to cover with the sheets, she had felt nothing but compassion for the little boy, who didn't even understand what was happening to him.
He had been wearing diapers when the man had dumped him unceremoniously into her arms. Perhaps he had planned it differently, but the violently thrashing and screaming child must have boycotted any chance of the sweet first encounter he might have imagined.
William had cried himself to sleep that night, but he hadn't fought her. He had never fought her. He had pressed his little face against her chest, soaking it with his tears. And she let him. Admittedly, because she couldn't decide whether it was the right thing to do or not. The child at least seemed perfectly aware of the difference between friend and foe. An ability she envied him for.
After the army cot got wet during the second night, she switched to waking him every other hour to make him use the toilet in the corner of the room. He never wet the bed again. A week later, they could sleep through the night without interruption.
He made sweet little noises when he slept that were deeply comforting. At night they were the only comforting noises around the house, as a matter of fact. Other than that there were the creaking floorboards above them, the sound of scratching, probably from a mouse in the wall, and the steady drip of the broken faucet from the small sink next to the toilet.
When she first had been locked up down here she had barely noticed the dripping sound, but after two weeks had passed it drove her to the edge of insanity. Like a ticking clock it compelled her to count the never-ending plops with which the water drops hit the porcelain and would be lost to the world forever. Just like her. She had started clenching her jaw with the rhythm of it until a cramp lingered there.
At one point she had wrapped the bed sheet around the retaining screw and had tried to pull it tighter. She prided herself on the fact that she had developed most of the skills required to fix things herself around her apartment and on her car, if necessary. Fixing that screw, however, hadn't worked in her favor. Her hand had slipped and she had lacerated her palm on the rough edges of the rusty metal. So she gave up. She couldn't afford to get tetanus on top of everything.
After William arrived the sound never bothered her again. A lot of things changed when he had entered the small space her life was made of these days.
The creaking of the floorboards above their heads caught her attention again. He moved with more urgency now. She jumped when the door suddenly flew open, her heart speeding up and her stomach churning. He almost never came down during the night. The only other time he had done so was when he had brought William to the house. With a few swift movements she pulled the sheets over the boy and positioned herself between him and the man, who had rushed down the stairs.
He was leering at her, slowly licking his bottom lip, while she felt her own lip starting to tremble.
"Tonight?" he asked, but she was already violently shaking her head. He didn't seem surprised by that anymore.
His hands went to the buckle of his belt, which he then forcefully pulled open.
.
Maura woke with a start and shot up in bed. The blood rushing in her ears was deafening. By habit she checked William over with her eyes before her breathing had even calmed. Her sight was still blurry, but he appeared to be sleeping just fine.
"You alright?"
The whisper startled her so much that she jumped backwards, bumping into metal and hissing at the pain it sent through her back. The unfamiliarity of the bed finally made her realize that she wasn't in the room anymore. They had been taken to a hospital. And someone must have pushed up the bed rails after she had fallen asleep.
She lifted her eyes again. The detective. She was standing next to the bed. Had she been watching them sleep?
"Do you want me to leave?" the dark haired woman asked, as if responding to Maura's unvoiced question.
She nodded, on guard because of her dream.
"There's a call button, if you need anything", the other woman explained and then left fairly quickly.
Maura didn't know whether it really was for the best.
.
The next time she woke it was because William was tapping her cheek.
"I'm up", he stated as she opened her eyes. They were burning slightly, but her pupils weren't dilated anymore, as usual in the mornings.
"I can see that", she smiled at him, before peering past his little form to examine the room. They were still alone, which made her feel at ease.
"I hear fire trutt", William whispered conspiratorial, as if telling her something very valuable.
"You can hear sirens?" Maura asked back.
"Yeah", he nodded meaningful.
Maura strained her ears, trying to pick up the sound he was talking about. It was a game they had played back at the house. Whoever named a noise first... there hadn't really been a consequence. Talking about the things they heard was simply a pleasure. That was how all the noises had changed when William came to stay with her in the room.
A knock was the next thing to be heard, making them both wince. The door opened silently and the detective reappeared. She was tall and lanky. Her dark hair hung around her shoulders in messy curls. There was something about her that Maura would specify as genuine, even though it could go in many directions; genuinely scared, angry, as well as gentle and warmhearted.
Jane Rizzoli told them that quite a few people wanted to see them and asked whether they were up for it. William apparently didn't feel addressed and occupied himself with smoothing out the wrinkles in the sheets, a task he had copied from Maura.
"Maura?"
Her head snapped up at the woman's voice. She felt the onset of confusion again, which happened each time she was asked a question, and had to remind herself that an answer was expected from her nonetheless.
"Who wants to see us?" She felt strengthened by taking the courage to counter with a question instead.
"His parents, a physician, a child psychologist, and another one for..." The detective's voice trailed off, but Maura couldn't tell why.
"For me?" she carefully completed the woman's sentence. She couldn't help it. Unfinished sentences made her feel obligated to finish them in order to help the person who for whatever reason had been prohibited to continue. Yet, she was scared to overstep.
"Only if you wanna see one", the detective spoke quickly and in an instant Maura realized that she didn't. She didn't want to see a psychologist or anyone else for that matter. She glanced down at William, who immediately sensed her attention and gazed up at her expectantly. Were they expecting her to make decisions for him? Or would they separate them, if she refused to see anyone, but wanted him to meet his parents again? Why couldn't they just tell her what was expected of her?
"You know what", the detective spoke again, "let's back up. Start over. Forget what I asked."
Maura looked at the tall woman without turning her head away from William. What was that person talking about? Was she playing games with her?
"What do you want to do today?"
Slowly, Maura turned her head. Maybe there was something in the other woman's features that would help her decipher that question. People rarely said what they meant. She had learned that long before him.
"There is no catch." Obviously the detective had also been reading her, much more successfully so.
She was tempted to further test the detective's abilities. Just as slowly as before Maura turned her head again, this time to look over her shoulder. She wondered briefly, if the other woman would think that she was actually searching for the catch, but then told herself that people weren't usually as literal as her.
Her eyes came to rest on the sink that was attached to the wall behind them. Its faucet wasn't dripping, which Maura liked in particular about it.
"Youuu...", the detective drew out, obviously catching on to the game, "wanna clean up first?"
Maura's head whipped around, genuinely surprised that it had worked. When she looked back at the person in front of her the detective was grinning.
"Not to be rude, but you look like you could use it."
At that Maura blushed. Something she hadn't done in 146 days. It draw a small chuckle out of the detective that didn't help the matter.
"You probably only washed with a lick and a promise, huh?"
"Excuse me?" Maura didn't know if she was supposed to feel insulted, or what that woman even was insinuating.
"No, it simply means 'doing a minimum amount of something'", the detective explained, a smile still lingering on her lips.
"Well, it is very hard to properly perform one's ablution with a small-sized sink and a faucet with low water pressure", Maura defended herself, still not catching on.
"It's alright", the other woman finally said in her hoarse voice, but Maura could swear she was biting back another comment. Maura didn't mind. She was having her first real conversations with this woman. It felt like part of her mind was slowly recovering from an anesthetic that had numbed her for several months.
"They are planning to move you to another room upstairs", the detective carried on. "It has a bathroom with a shower and a tub. And it has a window."
That sounded almost too good to be true.
"Could you answer me something honestly first, though?"
There it was, and it didn't come by surprise. She was used to catches. To be asked to be honest, however, unnerved her. She had never been anything but honest.
The detective carried on without waiting for Maura's reply. "Do you need a rape kit?"
Oh. That was why the dark haired woman had put it that way. She was being cautious with her.
"There'd be no trace evidence to be found", she answered, thinking that would put an end to this particular conversation, but was met with a concerned glance from the detective instead. After a moment she realized she hadn't answered the woman's question. At least not the one she apparently truly wanted an answer to.
"He- he-" She had to take a deep breath and closed her eyes briefly. She hated that this kept happening to her. "I wasn't", she simply decided to say, earning an audible exhale from the other woman.
"How about I get you two up there and as soon as you feel presentable you meet up with the Doc and then we'll see from there. What do you say?"
She wanted to say that she felt like she had found the catch after all, even though the detective gave it her best to make it look like a deal instead. She decided not to mind this one.
.
They went all the way up to the seventh floor. William was in her arms again, curiously gazing at each and everything, but especially amazed by the blinking buttons in the elevator.
They didn't meet a single person on their way up. With Maura's knowledge about hospitals she considered that almost impossible and understood that people were behaving and preparing things in a specific way because of them. She was certain they meant well, but it unsettled her to know that a lot was happening behind the scenes without her being included. That was what life had been like at the house, too.
Their new room gave away that they had entered the hospital's wing for private patients. It was equipped with elegant furnishings, a real bed, two armchairs, and a desk. The wall at the far end was one gigantic window. The world outside looked a little gray and dreary, matching some of Maura's inner life.
It was the kind of room she would have chosen, if she would have been given a choice. And if she pretended that the past four and a half months hadn't changed anything. Maura stepped into the adjoining bathroom and examined the door. It couldn't be locked.
"Research indicates that there is a correlation between many types of trauma and suicidal behaviors. Do you take me as suicidal?" She was surprised by her own tone. Something provocative had edged its way into it.
The detective shrugged, not even looking fazed by the way Maura had introduced the topic. "No", she simply said. Maura believed her.
"Would you prefer to lock it?" the other woman inquired.
Maura nodded.
"I can stay out here, if you'd like."
She nodded again. It had already been established as their way to communicate. She let herself be read and offered confirmation for the correct assessments and guesses. Had she ever met someone with whom this would have worked before?
"Take all the time you need, okay?" the detective interrupted her thoughts.
And they did.
First, she ran William a bath. He undressed without help, adorably eager to get in the tub. When she lifted him over the rim and into the water, he giggled with happiness.
Maura's heart was filled with warmth at his sight. Yet she found herself contemplating why they, whoever the decision-makers behind the scenes were, would let her do this. Why would they leave her alone with this child? Why would they let her bathe him?
In the beginning of William's time in the basement, she had also asked herself all those questions, until they dissipated and became inane. She wished she could go back to that.
She rose from her position on the ground and moved in front of the mirror, William's chatter comforting her. Her hair was a mess and much darker than she remembered it. It had grown, too. Her eyes were a little red-rimmed and her face had become gaunt.
She turned her back to the mirror and glanced at William in the tub, assessing whether he'd be able to see her in the mirror from his angle. When she diagnosed that he couldn't, she slipped the black shirt over head. It was one of two shirts she'd had. She and William had washed their clothes every other night, using it as a way to pass time and changing into the second pair.
She gazed over her shoulder, curiously inspecting the injuries on her back. It was the first time she got to see the whip marks. The belt buckle had cut open the skin in several spots. Underneath the red streaks she could count her protruding ribs like never before. She had to admit, it looked a lot better than she imagined. The pain had become a constant, the damaged skin tugging and twinging with every movement. She hadn't been able to sleep on her back for months, and had to suppress a yelp whenever William would fling his little arms around her.
"William?" He looked up at her, smiling and completely oblivious to her bare upper body. "Will you be alright when I step into the shower?"
"I be alright", he answered, already refocused on the ship-form his hands had currently taken on.
Maura had no idea whether it would be perceived as irresponsible to let a two-year-old to himself in a tub. She hadn't known a thing about toddlers before she got to know William. Not once had he done anything irresponsible in her presence. Perhaps, she thought, they matched perfectly in their cautious disposition.
She stepped out of her slacks and into the stall. The water was easy to regulate and had a wonderful pressure. She had truly forgotten how good a hot shower felt and even though she was leaning away from the spray in an attempt to not soak her wounded back, it seemed to have the power two completely unwind her nerves and muscles. Soon tears mingled with the water streaming down her face.
Afterward, she put on the scrubs they had laid out for her and helped William with the ones for him, before glancing at the mirror one last time. She looked like someone she used to know.
.
When they emerged from the bathroom, someone had brought them breakfast, and it was smelling incredibly good. William gave a delightful cheer when they discovered the food to be pancakes, blueberries, apples and milk. Maura looked back at the detective, who hadn't left the room, as agreed. She was grinning widely, her eyes trained on William's excited movements. It gave Maura all the reassurance she was looking for. This food was all theirs. Nothing would be asked in return.
She was fighting tears again. Every day of each month, he had brought fries in a bag labeled Wendy's. The amount didn't change when William had joined her. She didn't mind letting him eat most of it, though. The smell alone had made her nauseous by the time the child had arrived.
After they ate, Detective Rizzoli announced the doctor, who entered their new room a few moments later. Maura had come to sit on the bed, only because it was the best place for William to scoot close to her. He had his hand on her thigh and she had hers at the small of his back. Maura had kept her eyes glued to the ground at first, but then she noticed that William was mimicking her and decided otherwise. She sat up straight, the little boy next to her raising his chin as well.
They were mindful enough to choose a female physician. She introduced herself as Dr. Odell. The sound of it and her looks brought up abstract memories for Maura from a life she had deemed far away, maybe even long gone.
The doctor took her blood pressure and listened to her heart through the scrubs, before moving on to William to do the same. He let everything happen, just like Maura had.
Dr. Odell then examined Maura's throat and shone a light in each of her eyes.
"Your cornea and conjunctiva are irritated", the doctor remarked.
"I was given Cyclogyl dilating eye drops twice a day over the course of three weeks", Maura explained.
"Why?"
Maura didn't notice that the doctor's question had simply slipped out. She had been asking herself that question since he started administering those drops to her. He had made her sit on the floor and lean her head back against the army cot. She hadn't even flinched when the liquid had met her cornea. She had always complied. He had always had greater leverage than her.
The doctor had moved around the bed to check on Maura's back next, obviously already knowing that there was something to find.
When she lifted the shirt, William instantly covered his ears with his hands and dropped his head into her lap, whimpering slightly. Maura cursed herself for not foreseeing his reaction. Trapped in the same memory brought on by his behavior, she put a hand to his back protectively, but then did something she had never done before in his presence. She pushed her other hand backwards, trying to fend off previous threats the doctor had momentarily become a substitute for.
However, when her palm collided with the other woman's chest, it felt more like she herself took a punch. She slumped forward, covering William with her upper body, and mumbling unintelligible excuses.
She didn't know how much time had passed until the detective's voice got through to her. When she gathered the courage to meet the tall woman's eyes, she also noticed that the doctor had left the room.
"Not in front of him", Maura panted and the detective nodded in agreement.
They decided to give them some time to rest, since William wasn't really willing to lift his head from her thighs anymore and, in fact, fell asleep not long after that. The bath, the food and the doctor had filled him with enough sensations and experiences to process.
Maura moved to lay on her side, her head propped up by an elbow. It had started to rain. The raindrops were huge and the wind was strong, forcing the rain to splatter hard against their room's window.
Maybe she'd had it all wrong. Maybe the droplets didn't get lost, but created something new, simply not in a very obvious way. If only that could remotely apply to her situation.
.
In the late afternoon, Maura agreed to let William's mother and the child psychologist, who only wanted to be present to observe, visit them. Maybe it wasn't fair to William's father, but she definitely felt more at ease around women, although also very self-conscious around William's mom.
"Who's that?" she asked the little boy, and pointed unassertive at the woman who had entered. She had introduced herself as Patty, but kept her distance and William hadn't acknowledge her yet.
"Mommy", William whispered now, an encouraging sparkle in his eyes, but no hint as to whether he had recognized her at all during their encounter the night before. His mother's eyes, however, filled with tears.
William suddenly stood and whispered something everyone could hear in Maura's ear, "Rawra don't tot a phone."
Her heart started to ache. She knew what he was talking about. All the guilt from the previous night came rushing back to her. This woman, this mother, had been denied two months of her child's life. Because her son had been with Maura.
No. She wouldn't let this happen. She had sworn to herself that she would keep it together. She could handle this.
"Tell'em 'bout the phone, Rawra", William mumbled and Maura raised her eyes to the small crowd, all of them gazing back at her expectantly.
"When William was brought to the house", Maura began, addressing Patty and avoiding to say words like 'basement' or 'kidnapped', "he wanted me to call you. I told him I didn't have my phone on me." Maura felt herself blush for the second time that day, but William repeated, "No phone on her", and held out his little hands in a manner that said 'all gone'. The sincerity with which he felt the need to explain those circumstances made her feel very close to him.
They talked about beautifully mundane things after that, the detective and the psychologist pitching in here and there, successfully lightening everyone's mood with their jokes and comments. William visibly relaxed more and more around them, until he started squirming and suddenly whispered something in Maura's ear again.
"He wants to use the toilet", she explained a second later.
"You potty-trained him?" His mother sounded surprised.
Maura didn't know how to respond to that. She understood that the term was connected to using the bathroom, even though it was neither in her nor in William's vocabulary. Despite that, she didn't feel like 'training' was a word that applied to anything she had done with him down in that basement.
"Will you let your mommy take you to the bathroom?" she asked William in a tentative, but serious tone. He didn't even think about it, but slid down from the bed and waved at his mother to accompany him.
While they were gone, there was an uncomfortable silence in the room. The psychologist gave her a look that she deciphered as admiration, but she simply felt far from admirable. The detective on the other hand gave her look of concern, which she couldn't place even more.
Patty's voice startled her out of her thoughts. "I've been meaning to thank you, Dr. Isles, for all that you've done for my son."
Maura felt the blood leave her head. They knew who she was. No. They thought they knew who she was. How could that be?
In an instant her vision got blurry and the wounds on her back were contracting painfully with her rapidly rising and falling chest. Yes, it was rising and falling, which should suggest she was breathing – then why did she feel so dizzy?
"Maura?"
There was a voice, and then a figure stepped into her limited field of view. The person had their hands on their belt.
She had been even wronger than she thought. Her nightmare hadn't ended.
She was going to lose it in front of William after all. No matter what she had told herself, she was not in control.
She was not... she was... going to lose...
...
A/N: Okay, guys. So far this story is being told in baby steps, not even 24 hours have passed for Maura and Jane. Do you have any suggestions for the time line? Should I jump forward at some point? Where do you see the characters headed?