A/N: Guys, you are the best! It is so encouraging to receive your lovely comments and makes me realize how utterly great this Rizzles community is! Rest assured, there will be romantic Rizzles for you dedicated shippers of our gorgeous ladies!
I also want to add that English is not my first language, so any grammatical errors or weird blunders are totally on me.
Chapter 4: The Offer
Jane's POV
You pick Maura up from her appointment with her doctors; you know immediately that the news she has received can't be good from the expression on her face. Your heart does this painful half-jump inside of your chest. Seeing your best friend in pain makes you want to go and find someone to put the blame on, no matter how unfair it would be to actually assign responsibility for her suffering to a doctor or that stupid ex-boyfriend of hers, Ian, who broke her heart more than once.
You don't ask any questions when she slips into the car quietly and fastens her seatbelt meticulously. You take her to your apartment; you don't know why you think she doesn't want to be at her house right now but you follow your instincts that tell you she needs to put some distance between herself and her place.
You decide to order in; you've worked without even a 10-minutes lunch break today in order to be able to leave BPD in time to pick her up from the clinic and your stomach is protesting against your neglect by grumbling loudly again and agin.
When the food arrives, you shovel spoonfuls of it into your mouth almost guiltily to quench your hunger a little; but swallowing is hard when she's only picking at her portion. Of course you know very well by now that she's not a stress-eater; she also doesn't belong to the people who try to eat their sorrow away but today, she doesn't even seem compelled to taken even a customary bite for your sake.
"Maura", you start, carefully, like a zookeeper slowly inchining his way forward towards a distressed animal. You wish you had inherited more of your mother's caring nature. In situations like these, you feel helpless outside of your police uniform. And Maura is the first person in your life to fill you with this incomprehensible protectiveness, like you'd carry her to the end of the world just to see her smile.
But how to put any of this into words? It would only sound cheesy and inadequate. You struggle to find anything to say at all with her hazel, gold-specked eyes on you. Is she looking at you or staring right through you?
"Listen", you start desperately, "whatever the doctors have told you, there's always hope and-"
She interrupts you, which is rare because she has been taught the most impeccable manners. "There is no hope for me to actually cary a child to term, Jane." Her voice is raw, distant, like she's reading off a script.
You are shocked despite this being pretty much what you'd figured out by yourself. You don't want to accept a reality where such a kind, good-hearted person like Dr. Maura Isles gets dealt such a shitty hand of cards.
"Isn't there always, like, a margin for error in these things?", you ask, grasping at any straw although you are aware of how dumb you must sound. Here she is, her dream of motherhood ruined, and you act like you believe in miracles. Towards her, of all people, her being someone who deeply believes in science and won't be tempted to take solace in something as unlikely and illogically as miracles. She doesn't believe in Gods or fate or superstitious crap of any kind.
She gives you a rueful smile while toying with her chopsticks, ingoring the pile of rice on her plate. "Well, there seems to be something going on that prevents my body from succesfully carrying. They don't know the exact reason. They think that genetic causes are probably the issue." She shrugs. "There are so many reasons why women have a miscarriage, but what does it matter? That ship has sailed for me, isn't that how the saying goes?" The only thinly veiled bitterness in her voice is shocking, as is her correct use of a figure of speech. She must have picked the saying up from you.
You bite your lip. "But, couldn't you, like - try again, still? They're not saying it's impossible, right?" Jesus, why are you acting so dense?
She shakes her head. "I don't wish to discuss this any further, Jane." She sounds more exhausted than actually angry but you can't help yourself. You want to make her better so much that it's almost like a physical ache.
"Maura – there must be other options to peruse", you say, stubbornly clinging to any thread of hope there is. As a homicide detective, you have encountered the brutal unfairness of life numerous times, but this is something you just aren't ready to believe. That this gentle, uniquely sweet friend of yours could have her dream crushed so cruelly, so permanently.
The glance she throws you is chilly, bewildered. "Jane, are you suggesting -? I thought you knew how much I struggle with the concept of adoption, it's-"
"What?", you interrupt her, utterly horrified at her assumption. "Maura, no – I'd never!", you nearly yell, which makes Joe Friday, curled up on your couch, prick up her ears in sudden concern. Somewhat calmer, you continue: "That's not what I meant to say at all. I know you wouldn't consider adoption given how conflicted you feel about your own upbringing", you add softly, determined to not rub salt into this particular wound.
Your best friend was abandoned by her biological mother as a baby. She later had to find out that her biological father is a mobster called Paddy Doyle but she's at least getting along with her biological mother, Doctor Hope Martin, who she'd also only got to know as an adult. While her adoptive parents sent Maura to the best schools and encouraged her talents, and while you know she feels deeply grateful to them and is an outstandingly loyal daugher, you also get her complicated emotions regarding her own past: how she'd always wondered what it would be like to grow up with siblings; how she was such a quiet, well-behaved child that her adoptive parents just assumed she was doing fine and did never really take notice of her struggles and how she was basically just a child in need of love and affection, not a genius-in-the-making, a prestigious project for them to take on.
Maura sighs and pushes away her plate, seemingly repulsed by the food that normally is her favorite on the menu. "I'm being bitchy", she says, sounding truly chagrined by her behavior.
You place a hand on her arm. "Hey, it's fine. I'm sorry I don't have anything actually helpful to say. To be honest, I feel kinda overwhelmed", you admit. You do not intend to make all of this about you because it simply isn't; but you also assume that telling her about your own feelings will make her realize that she isn't all alone in this mess. Youl'll be there for her, no matter what.
Her lower lip starts to tremble a little. "Jane... your presence right now means the world to me. I wouldn't even have a clue whom else to tell about all of this", she states, matter-of-factly, well aware of her own social limitations. Although she has grown so much better at being around people than she gives herself credit for.
"Where else would I be?", you reply nonchalantly and start to clear the table.
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Things do not get better magically. You often catch Maura lost deep in thought, staring out the window or lightly scratching across Bass' tortoise shell absentmindedly. For the first time in your friendship, the two of you spend more time at your apartment than in her spacious house. Neither of you comments this fact but it's obvious why she'd choose to stay at your place: her house must be full of memories, but also of the ghost of a future she must have pictured so vividly: where she would have put the playpen, the crib, the high chair. The way a toddler would have climbed up the wooden staircase under her watchful gaze. Herself sitting on her ridiculously large couch, nursing a baby. The organic, wholesome meals she would have prepared for her offspring in her well-equipped, spotless kitchen.
It's almost weird for you to spend so much time in your own apartment although you tried to do so during her pregnancies in order to give her some privacy and get used to this idea of Maura the mother. There are only rare, fleeting moments in which you can allow yourself to acknowledge an embarrassing truth about yourself, namely that while you've always rooted for her, her family planning also made you feel somewhat at a loss sometimes, even (and that's really ugly and twisted but still, it's the truth) filled you with an immature jealousy when you imagined her being, first and foremost, committed to the welfare of her child before being Maura Dorthea Isles, your best friend, the one person you could always count on.
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When your youngest brother Tommy asks you whether you can watch his son, T.J., for a day, you instantly want to decline. Work could serve you as a good enough excuse although you love your nephew dearly and don't actually plan to not be a very active part of his life. You do, however, feel reluctant because of Maura; when Tommy calls you, she is having a shower in your tiny bathroom before heading to work. You are already fully dressed and showered; your hair is pulled back into a professional bun because you have a work function later today.
Tommy refers to tomorrow though; and you both have a day off tomorrow. Well, Maura is actually throwing herself into work currently as a coping mechanism so she already informed you that she does intend to go to the morgue for a couple of hours tomorrow afternoon but Tommy wants to bring his son in early; when he notices your uncharacteristic hesitation, he tells you, sounding stressed, that he already asked Angela but that she has a dentist's appointment tomorrow and starts to loudly contemplate asking Frankie, your other brother.
"I think Frankie's on duty tomorrow", you interrupt him.
He groans at the other end of the line. "Oh no, and I don't think Lydia's folks will be able to-"
"Who's that on the phone?", Maura, who has, unnoticed by you, slipped into the bedroom in her silk robe, asks casually, the way you often ask each other about harmless everyday information; somebody once pointed out to you that it's a very couple-y thing to do but you just brushed the remark off with a laugh.
You cover your cellphone a little so Tommy will get that you are not currently talking to him. "It's my baby brother, he's calling in for a favor regarding T.J, but-"
"Oh." Maura's face adorably lights up for a second, but then, she frowns at the lack of enthusiasm in your voice. "He wants us to babysit?", she asks, her honey-blonde hair clinging to her skull and shoulders, wet from her shower that probably also included a hair-wash.
You nod your head swiftly. "But it's fine, I've told him we cannot really-"
She glares at you in astonishment. "Jane! Why wouldn't we?" Before you can react, she has already grabbed your cell and addresses your brother. "Tommy, don't worry, you can bring T.J. Anytime... yes, to your sister's apartment... it's no problem at all... I'd be delighted... yes, I remember... alright, that will work fine for us... okay, I will tell her... thanks, Tommy. Goodbye!" She hands you the phone and you blink, trying to feign nonchalance.
She chuckles, totally not buying it. "Jane, while I appreciate you taking care of me, I can assure you that seeing T.J won't re-traumatize me. It will be good to have him around." The doubt on your face must still be visible because she playfully bumps your shoulder on her way back to the bathroom. "Seriously, I'm looking forward to spending time with him." You breathe a sigh of relief, something you find yourself doing nearly every single time the "old" Maura resurfaces and reminds you that she's still there, that she always will be. She's a fighter and you love her for it.
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A few days later, she's having a particularly rough day. She doesn't even listen to the news on your drive to work and when you head downstairs in your lunch break to share some pastries with her, she is preoccupied and avoids your gaze and looks like she's been crying which you can't really imagine her doing at work but on the other hand, you can.
You sense that she's not in the mood for company so you leave her be after a while; focus on the paperwork that is piling up high on your desk and even grab dinner at the Dirty Robber with Korsak and Frost after your shift ends. You text Maura to ask her if she's okay and inform her about your whereabouts; she texts back a simple Okay, see you later. Say hi to Korsak and Frost and it makes your stomach churn that she's still being so considerate despite everything that's going on.
When you come home some time later, you find her already in bed, lights dimmed. You change into your nightwear and and join her under the covers. Her back is turned to you in her current position and you shift a little closer in a silent question: Do you want me to be here? Would you rather I leave you alone for now?
She answers your question by speaking, quite suddenly and in a hollow tone of voice: "You know, I am actually fine with not having children. They have a huge environmental impact, for once. Some experts say that overpopulation is already becoming a serious problem to a world with limited resources although some of these theories are fiercely discussed and deemed controversial by many scientists."
You decide not to interrupt her.
"There have also been studies conducted about new parents' levels of life satisfaction. Did you know that many of the studies discovered a decline of their satisfaction after the birth of their child? The loss of life satisfaction described by a large number of parents after having a child is even larger than it is in the case of unemployment or a spouse's death!"
"Wow", you grunt, unsure about how to respond.
"Sleep deprivation, a lack of control about one's life, a reduction of personal freedom and the difficulty of reconciling family and work are factors that shouldn't be dismissed easily", she continues.
Dr. Maura Isles may not be a very good liar – in fact, is barely able to lie at all – but you realize that she is not exactly lying to herself; rather, she's trying to convince herself into becoming a version of herself that is okay with her life being and staying this way.
And it's not about you, it's not about you at all, you realize. You've never questioned the worth of your friendship before. She cherishes you. She really loves having you in her life. It's just that a child would allow her to – well, to be herself even more completely, to let herself be guided by her maternal instincts and to maybe make a change for the better (because you don't doubt she'd be a stellar mom. You know it in your bones.)
You are not surprised when she starts weeping; you pull her closer and let her, although it does hurt you to feel her body be shaken by almost violent sobs.
You do not remember when it became an option for you to even consider what you are currently considering. The thought has crossed your mind during the past few days off and on, for sure, but you've always dismissed it. Crazy times, crazy ideas, and you are so desperate to help her, and one of your more recent solved cases involved a surrogate mother (she was only a random eye witness to a crime you were investigating).
But – is it truly that crazy?, you ponder. You might hold some rather traditional views that Maura has teased you for in the past, ever the pioneer, but you also have a decidedly less traditional side, a rebellious streak. Though this wouldn't be a rebellion, but – what? An act of kindness? Collecting points for an afterlife you don't even believe in?
You are tired of the voice holding you back, questioning your motives, keeping you from doing what in your heart you feel is the right thing to do.
"Maura", you say finally, quietly, when her sobs have ceased to shake her slender form and she's just still in your arms, the faint smell of her – lavender and a whiff of something more exotic and probably unpronounceable – reminding you that this is real, this is your life, and how much you love sharing it with Maura no matter the circumstances.
"Maura", you start again, a lump of anxiety forming in your throat so you have to rasp out the words around it somehow, "I know you can't try again – but I could. I can. For you", you offer her your heart, your soul and your body on a silver plate, and it is the most frightening and liberating and possibly selfless thing you have ever in your life offered anyone.
