The Healing Dark

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Rizzoli&Isles and those two wonderful characters named Jane and Maura are property of TNT and other very lucky people. This is merely for fun.

Spoilers: Episodes up to 5x02 "Goodbye", and general knowledge of the series.

A/N: Hello, everyone. This is my very first R&I fanfic. Hope you like it. It starts a few hours after Jane's breakdown in "Goodbye" and follows our favorite duo until the next morning.

Special thanks to my beta, Nic, for making sure this was good enough to be posted.

Title was inspired by the following quote:

Some praise the Lord for Light,

The living spark;

I thank God for the Night

The healing dark.

~Robert William Service, "Weary"

The air was crisp.

Cold.

It surprised her. Boston was never this cold in June.

Jane Rizzoli mentally kicked herself for going out in the middle of the night wearing a dress but then again, wardrobe hadn't exactly been her main concern when she had left the house.

'Wearing the appropriate layers of clothing protects the body against low temperatures', Maura would say. Probably along with a five-minute lecture about how the Gulf Stream current affects the Nor'easter and causes abnormalities in the otherwise mild New England climate.

A smile escaped her lips. Maura was the smartest person she knew, but most of the time she found her extensive knowledge disarming. And very frustrating. Thank God for money and boarding school. The woman would have never made it through public.

Jane couldn't really tell how far she had wandered. Must've been quite the walk though, judging by her bare feet and the high-heeled shoes clasped in her right hand. She looked around, shivering, as if just realizing what she had done.

And everything came back to her.

'Couldn't be better here, but I miss you anyway.'

She had lost it after finding Frost's postcard in the mail, skipping from denial right to depression in Maura's five-stages-of-grief theory. One look at his neat handwriting, and the tears she had carefully tried to hold back finally spilled over, running over her cheeks and soaking the sleeves and the front of her funeral dress. She had wept, even well after the tears had dried up, for Barry, for herself, for the unexpected turns her life had taken, until finally she eased herself off the floor and curled up on the couch, spent.

The nightmares had begun shortly after that.

She barely remembered leaving the apartment. All she knew was that it had suddenly felt like the walls were closing in on her and she couldn't breathe. On the brink of claustrophobia, she had grabbed her cell phone and closed the door behind her like she'd done many times before during a particularly tough case.

On nights like this, she would run and strain herself to the point where she could barely make it back home. Physical exertion allowed her to lock the door, crawl into bed and stop thinking for a while, granting her the wish of a few hours of uninterrupted sleep. Only she was five weeks pregnant now, and one of her best friends had just been laid to rest.

Leaning against the hood of a parked car, an arm protectively wrapped around her belly, Jane wondered what kind of life she could have lived if she had chosen a different path. It would be so much easier if she cared less about her job, wouldn't it? Her hands wouldn't be scarred. Her mind wouldn't be so tired. She could've had a family with Casey. A triple-decker by the water. Two point five kids and a golden retriever.

And she would have probably killed herself within the first year.

Who was she kidding? Fairy tales didn't run in her family. The Rizzolis were loud, irritating, and mostly unconventional. Going out in the middle of the night was just routine. Attending your partner's funeral, part of a day's work.

Silence surrounded her as she stood on the sidewalk of the residential street. One left turn, and she would find herself in front of the BU Bridge. She had never made it this far, not even during her night runs. It would be one hell of a long way home from this neighborhood. She briefly considered waking someone up and asking for a ride home on behalf of police business, but doubted any one of these people would give up part of their precious sleep time to help her.

Then what?

Bowing her head in defeat, she reached for her cell phone and speed-dialed one.

It took Maura Isles seven minutes to find her.

She didn't ask questions. Not as she unlocked the passenger's side door of her car, or during the ride back to Jane's apartment. Outside the police station, she stopped being the Chief Medical Examiner of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts and became Maura, the best friend. The friend who had seen the best and worst of Detective Rizzoli, the one who was always there at the end of a rough day to pick up the pieces.

Tonight was no exception.

She had once described her friend as 'deceptively complex', and that definition still rang true. Jane rarely asked for help, and when she did it was only to people she completely trusted, people she didn't think would judge or think less of her if she admitted defeat. People who wouldn't treat her like a victim.

And so Maura stood silently by her side, offering no reassurances and requesting no explanations. Only later, while they were both sitting on Jane's couch, Jo Friday comfortably nestled between them, did she finally voice her concern.

"You should've let me come over."

Jane sighed. "I thought I was doing okay." Her gaze lowered, resting on the San Diego sunset pictured in the postcard she'd been holding onto since she found it. "This came in the mail today," she said, offering it to Maura.

Maura hesitantly took it, figuring it had to do with her friend's distress, and examined it with the same reverence and respect she usually reserved to the bodies on her table. Tears stung her eyes as she read the words and the signature at the bottom, but she held them back. This was not her time to mourn. She needed to be strong for Jane.

"I did it, you know."

"Did what?"

"I cried. I saw this, and... I just lost it, Maur'. Thought I wouldn't be able to stop."

"It's okay. I'm sure it helped."

Jane shook her head, as if ashamed by her own feelings. "I, uh - sometimes I feel like I'm about to break. And it scares me."

"You've been through a lot, Jane. And I'm not even talking about Frost. Look at the last few months; your father's cancer, Casey and the pregnancy. There's only so much a human body can tolerate. Your subconscious is simply expressing what your rational mind can't."

"So, how do I tell my subconscious to stop?"

Maura smiled. "I'm not sure. You could try meditation. Studies have shown it deactivates the Posterior Cingulate Cortex."

"The cingular what?"

"It's a region of the brain. According to fMRI results, its activity decreases throughout contemplation. It's been proven to reduce anxiety, enhance rapid memory recall and performances under pressure."

Jane waved a hand in dismissal. "No, thanks. Just take me to the range, I'll show you how I deactivate my brain." She leaned back against the pillows and closed her eyes. "I'm just exhausted. It's been a long few days."

"Would you like some tea?"

"I don't think I've ever had tea in this apartment."

"You do," Maura smiled, enjoying Jane's puzzled expression. "Or... well, I do." She reached for her purse on the coffee table and produced a small, cylindrical box.

"Is there also a teapot in there, Mary Poppins?"

"No. I seem to recall someone gave you one as a Christmas gift last year."

"Yeah, someone who knows me so well. Let me guess... panda poop?"

Maura grinned. "One and only."

"Whatever," Jane conceded as she motioned for Jo Friday to come sit on her lap. "I'm too tired to complain."

Maura got off the couch and walked to the kitchen. "I was counting on that."

"I miss him."

Her voice was so soft that Maura barely heard it. It was 3:15 am, and they had just moved from the couch to Jane's bed hoping to get at least a few hours of sleep. Crime doesn't stop because detectives die. People still get murdered, and they deserve justice. Even if your heart is broken.

"I know you do. I miss him too."

Jane's eyes were closed, and when she didn't comment on her reply Maura wondered if her friend was just talking in her sleep. She lay still, watching the lights from the passing cars outside create shadows on the bedroom ceiling above her. Morning would be here soon. Good thing she had brought a change of clothes so she could shower and change before going to work. After a double dose of espresso.

"I can't help thinking that I failed him as a partner."

This time, the words were clear. Loud.

Maura turned to the side so she could face her. "Jane, stop. There is nothing you could've done to help him," she said in her best soothing voice.

But Jane wasn't listening. "I've failed all my partners. Every single one of them. You should run as far away from me as you can, Maur'."

"Nonsense. I know you don't really believe that. Researchers at the University of Iowa have found that insomnia is often associated with depression. Insufficient sleep shuts down the pre-frontal cortex and can exacerbate a number of psychological conditions, ranging from anxiety to PTSD to depression."

"I'm not depressed." Even as she said that, Jane realized how fake and hollow it sounded.

"Studies have also shown that sleep deprivation in police officers results in impaired cognitive performance, so I wouldn't really trust your words right now."

Jane put an arm over her eyes, sighing.

She was not going to win this.

"Detective Frost was very proud to be your partner," Maura said, hoping to sound convincing. She felt the mattress shift beside her.

"Yeah? How do you know that?"

"He even had a crush on you when he was first assigned to homicide."

Jane lifted her head off the pillow. "What?"

"He confessed it to Tommy while they were trapped in that parking garage last year."

She resisted the urge to ask her best friend why she would discuss her love life with her brother and tried to picture Frost's smiling face instead. If only she had been nicer to him. Kinder. Talked less, listened more...

If only...

"Are you offering me cupcakes?"

Jane thought all that talk about failure and depression the night before must've really scared Dr. Isles if she was willing to consider this delicious, chemically-altered food as breakfast.

"I am," Maura said as she pushed a box filled with multi-colored treats in front of her friend. "I figured after the last twenty-four hours you were allowed to cheat. Well, you and me both. And, it's been proven that pastries increase serotonin levels and boost our mood, which is one of the reasons why Denmark has been named by the United Nations as the happiest place on Earth for several years in a row."

She smiled. One of those bright, warm smiles that always melted Jane's heart.

"Although the mood lift is only temporary, and usually followed by low blood sugar levels that release insulin and adrenaline, compromising serotonin production."

Of course. Jane rolled her eyes as she sipped her coffee, but the playful grin on her face was hard to miss. "Thank you," she said softly.

"You're very welcome."

"Not for the cupcakes. For being here. For putting up with me. I know it's not easy."

They exchanged a meaningful look and were both silent for a long moment. "It's not," Maura finally admitted, covering Jane's hand with her own. "But I still wouldn't change a thing. Well, except for this last...event. I'd gladly go back in time and prevent this from happening."

"Me too."

Another moment passed. Jane absently stirred her coffee, lost in thought. Maura could tell something was bothering her but once again chose to wait until she was ready to talk about it.

It didn't take long.

"Do you believe in heaven? I mean, all that stuff they teach you in Catholic school? Do you think he's in a better place?"

"I'm a scientist, Jane. I'm not comfortable with religion."

Jane nodded. She wasn't convinced either. The thought that Barry- his spirit, had not ceased to exist was nice, but her mom was probably right. Heaven is consolation for the living, not the dead. "I know what I want," she announced.

Maura's brows furrowed.

"The other day you asked me about my last wishes. I know what I want. There's this beach in Revere I used to go to with my family every summer, and even afterwards when I left and became a cop. Always gave me a sense of peace. Freedom. That's where I want to be. I want to be cremated and I want you to go there and throw my ashes in the sand." Her eyes locked onto Maura's. "Will you do that for me?"

"Of course I will."

"No boats, no cellos, you understand?"

"Violin?"

Jane smiled. The first real smile since her partner's death. "Not unless you want me to come back from the dead and kick your ass." She took a cupcake from the tray in front of her and started eating it. "Beer, maybe."

"I'm not serving beer at a funeral!"

"Why not? It's my funeral. You can serve whatever I tell you." Three bites, and the chocolate treat with vanilla frosting was gone. "And no formal wear."

"Jane..."

"I'm serious, Maura. I don't want a big ceremony, just a private service for my friends and family. Nothing fancy. I want people to remember me for who I really am, not for that hero bullshit they tried to pull after the shooting."

Maura's lips curved upward. She expected nothing less. "So...casual attire. And beer."

"And laughter. Lots of laughter. I want you to gather everyone on the beach, and I want you guys to make a bonfire so you can sit around and tell my most embarrassing stories. Celebrate me as the person who couldn't help cracking jokes. Who loved her family with all that she had, and caught bad guys for a living to make the world a better place."

There. She had finally said it out loud.

She looked into her best friend's eyes and saw the frown reflected on her features. "What?"

Maura swallowed. "I don't...really have any casual clothes," she admitted.

Jane's face broke into a wide grin. "Don't worry. I'm not planning to leave anytime soon."

THE END