I know loads of people are doing their own 2x15 continuations but I thought I'd add a little ficlet to the mix. It's a one-shot, so I probably won't be continuing. This came as a long thought-conversation I had with myself about how much Maura would take to keep herself from being Jane's friend again. Hope you enjoy!
It takes one person to forgive, it takes two people to be reunited - Lewis B. Smedes
It was never enough to move on and act as if they'd never been friends. Maura sipped on the aged whiskey with a drawn out sigh and placed the tumbler back on the nightstand as she continued to pack. It had been five weeks, two days and twelve hours since she'd spoken with Detective Jane Rizzoli. And still, work was as tense as ever. Surely they should have worked passed things. Right? She closed her eyes letting the alcoholic burn warm her from the inside.
Korsak had tried to speak with her, Frost… Angela. Even her own mother. It wasn't that she didn't want to speak with Jane. It was that she couldn't. She physically couldn't converse with the detective, or look her in the eye. Her throat would close up, and she held down sobs if she so much as thought of talking to her.
Throwing some more clothes into her suitcase, she gulped down the rest of her Irish whiskey and gave a bitter smile. She hadn't gone to her father's funeral. It was bad enough that he was at the warehouse at all that day. She didn't want to draw anymore attention to the fact that he was her father. She wanted to be the boring, safe Maura Isles that she'd been before she'd found out who her biological father was. But she had to admit, the liter bottle of Powers sat on her kitchen counter with a scrawled note that said 'our condolences' had surprisingly warmed her numb heart.
Angela had stayed at the guest house, but had informed her she'd be moving out by the end of the month. Even their friendship had become strained. She threw another roll of socks into the suitcase and when she was finally done, zipped it up and put it by the door for later. The alcohol was hitting her harder than she thought it would. Perfect. Taking the letter she'd prepared from the table in the hallway, she shrugged on a coat and waited for her taxi to arrive. Her phone buzzed. Letting out a long, nervous breath, she let her fingers play with the letter in her hands, then left the house.
The cab driver was silent and she was thankful for that, though half of her wished for a little distraction. Over a month. She shook her head and licked her lips anxiously. Jane hadn't spoken to her in over a month. Scrap that, I haven't spoken to Jane in over a month. Jane had tried, of course, on numerous occasions, and at the beginning had left a total of 32 missed calls. Each time, Maura felt her tongue press down in the pit of her mouth, finding herself unable to answer. Her heart had raced, and the image of Jane's haunted, ashamed face popped up again in her mind. Jane Rizzoli was her world, she wasn't going to lie. Originally, when she'd become the chief medical examiner for the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, she didn't think she'd stay long. Always considered to be a job hopper, she was shocked when she'd finally got passed the 5 year mark. Why? Maura let a tear slide down her cheek. Jane Rizzoli. She'd kept her there, she'd stolen her heart and now… The medical examiner blew out a frustrated breath.
"We're here, ma'am." The taxi driver's gruff voice suddenly sounded through the vehicle and Maura jumped. He'd obviously been trying to let her know for a while.
She apologized profusely and paid, then left the car and let herself in the apartment block. The elevator whirred rhythmically and she closed her eyes and tried to focus on her breathing, the letter still in hand. She was going to post the note in her old friend's mailbox in the lobby, but something, something was telling her to go upstairs.
When she reached Jane's door, she froze. She stood motionless and stared at the number 12 on the door. The human body has twelve cranial nerves. Magnesium's atomic number. She traced the brass digits with a finger, then took a breath and bent down to slip the letter under the door. A muffled sob caused her to stop in her tracks. She could just… Leave. The noise came louder. Contrary to popular belief, Maura Isles was in fact human, and though she was angry, she was compelled to find out if the detective was okay.
"Jane?" She called out and knocked the door, hearing nothing but more quiet howls of pain. Fumbling frantically for the spare set of keys, she opened the door as fast as she could. What she saw caused the keys in her hand to drop onto the floor. Sat on the floor in the middle of the room was Jane, dressed in workout gear. The blue dummy was still where Maura had remembered it to be but the cop didn't even look up at the sound of the door opening. Jo ran to greet the her with a happy wag of the tail, hoping to get some food.
"Jane…" Maura felt like somebody was sat on her chest. Jane looked up numbly, revealing a gash on her left cheek, a black eye and a scrape across her forehead. Her eyes were red and nearly swollen shut, not from her injuries, but from the hours of crying. Part of her wanted to stay angry. She wanted to stay angry, and she wanted to move on, from this love, this friendship - she wanted another life. She wished she could just move on. Her lip quivered though. Everything everyone had said came flying back. She was just doing her job. She misses you. She's sorry. What if you let her explain?
The rest of her protested and in that split second, she made her decision. The woman on the floor had killed her father. Her murderous, untrustworthy, unsteady father who could have made a shot and could have mistakenly killed her, or Frost, or even Jane. She wanted to be cold. She wanted to stay curt, to deliver the letter, then leave. Her heart ached too, even if Jane's performance was more dramatic. Things clicked. That's where she was wrong. Jane wasn't one to sob, or be dramatic, emotionally anyway. She was reserved. She hardly cried… and here she was, a mess on her own floor in her own apartment, on her own. This wasn't an act for anybody else but herself.
"Maura?" Jane's mouth was full of blood and she spat into the shoulder of her t-shirt with a grimace to rid the metallic taste. "That you?" she squinted blearily, obviously drunk. Empty bottles of beer littered the kitchen counter, age old vacant boxes of pizza left abandoned without a care in the world.
That was it. Maura caved. This was why she needed to go upstairs. She needed to see this for herself. The graceful blonde slipped the letter into her handbag and approached the cop before dropping onto her knees and scooping her into her arms. "Shit, Jane what did you do?" she whimpered. Usually she wouldn't have cursed. She hated hearing herself do it, but the whiskey and the situation forced it out of her.
Jane mumbled a slurred "I fell," before collapsing against her friend's chest in a heap of sobs, her lanky frame clutching the woman close as if her life depended on it. "I'm sorry," Jane wailed suddenly. "I am so sorry. I'm sorry." Finally able to say it, the detective thought she was going to collapse from relief; Paddy Doyle's death, Dean's betrayal, the fact he too was just doing his job…all the aspects of their broken friendship rearing its ugly head as her emotional release ensued.
Maura's heart ached. "Oh god Jane, what did you do?" She shook her head and clutched the woman tighter, her hand threading through the sweaty, tear-soaked hair. "Shhh… it's okay."
"I'm sorry…" Jane mumbled, hiccupping into her chest. "I didn't w-wanna kill him, Maur. I… I'm sorry." Her voice was almost recognizable, muffled by Maura's chest and hoarse from the countless hours of crying.
"Shhh, I've got you." Maura hushed, mainly for herself. "It's okay." Things weren't okay, though. The anger Maura felt was indescribable and for once, for the first time in a month and a bit, it wasn't for Jane. The anger was for everybody else in their lives. Why wouldn't anybody tell her that her friend was this bad, this…broken? Did they think she was that heartless? That she'd never listen to them? Surely they knew that she was a logical woman, that after a while, she'd think about things, and gain information about what truly went down at the warehouse. What actually happened, and what she actually remembered when her head and grief had cleared slightly. Looking down at herself, she noted her new Fendi button up blouse was probably covered in a mix of mucus, blood and tears. What surprised her further was that she didn't care. She cuddled the detective close waiting until the sobbing had calmed slightly before she pulled back to see what the damage was. "Oh honey…" she breathed almost silently.
Jane's lip quivered at the term of endearment and watched as gentle fingers traced the bruises on her cheeks along with the cuts and scrapes. "I'm sorry…"
Maura just shook her head, letting the woman know the subject wasn't up for discussion. Instead, she eased Jane out of her lap and made her way to the freezer to pull out an ice pack. Wrapping it in a kitchen towel, she walked back over to where the sorry excuse for a friend was sat and slipped off her pumps before lowering herself back onto the floor. "Come here, let me see." Glassy eyes turned her way and Maura dabbed gently at the battered face. "Where did you fall?" Jane hissed and pointed blindly over to the end table by the nearest wall. The medical examiner tutted and stroked at Jane's chin tenderly.
"Feels like before," Jane suddenly grunted with a lopsided smirk.
"I'm sorry?" Maura frowned.
"When Frankie broke my nose." Chocolate colored eyes examined her friend while Maura did the same to her bruised face.
Maura let out a cautious, slow smile. "See? And if you were doing something safe like yoga, we wouldn't be having this problem."
"Oh I dunno," Jane let out self-deprecating chuckle. "I'm pretty shit at yoga."
"That's true," Maura smiled back, wider this time. Jane squawked in protest to the prodding to her face and the dig at her yoga skills. It was true, she did lose her balance a lot. She watched as her friend got up once more, moving over to the sink to fill a bowl with water while retrieving some kitchen roll. She dipped a ball into the water and began to wipe the blood from Jane's face. "Jane?"
"Hmm…" Jane closed her eyes at the sensations, trying not to let the pleasure overwhelm her too much but the water was just the right temperature, and the dabbing wasn't too hard or sore.
"I'm sorry too."
Jane winced and pulled away with a look of shock, eyes wide. "What the fuck for?"
Maura's head tilted to the left as she shrugged. "I didn't know how hard you were hurting. I'm sorry."
Jane shook her head. "I've been a jerk. Don't blame you…" she grumbled, and kept her eyes on her hands in her lap.
"Hey," Maura lifted her face by the chin. "Can you…" she took a shaky breath, "can you stop beating yourself up?" Jane blinked, more tears scattering down her mottled cheeks. "Please?"
The detective nodded slowly, sobering up slightly. "Got a lot to talk about, huh?" She licked her bleeding lip.
Maura let out an uncharacteristic snort and nodded with a smile. "Another time," she murmured softly and pulled Jane by the hand until they were both standing.
"Woah," the detective wavered on her feet, a sudden dizzy spell catching her off guard.
"Concussion," Maura supplied helpfully, her voice still a little rough from the drinking. "Can't say I'm exactly surprised," she brought the woman into the light. "Close your eyes?" Jane did so, then felt a sudden brightness behind her lids. "Open them." The brunette blinked and watched as Maura flashed her pen torch back and forth, checking her pupil dilation. "Looks okay," she shrugged. "Where does it hurt, here?" She prodded gently around Jane's skull but the pouty detective shook her head each time. Finally, she smiled and took Jane's hand, leading them into the bedroom.
Jane gulped. This felt completely weird, and she couldn't walk any further. Her mother had changed the sheets on the bed during one of her 'glum days' but she still couldn't shake the feeling that this was wrong. "You okay?" Maura placed a hand on her friend's arm. Jane's shake of the head was barely visible, and she stayed still. This was where it happened. Where she told Dean about Maura. Where she'd woke up, naked, and told him everything.
"Can we go to yours?" Jane's voice was rough and full of… Maura paused. Was it remorse? She shook her head. Shame.
The medical examiner sighed and made her way to the cupboard with a tut. "I can't believe you haven't done this already," she took out a brand new set of bedcovers and stripped the bed, then the sheets and swapped them.
"Maura no…" Jane cringed at the flowery duvet. Her head was pounding and the begonia patterned bed sheets weren't helping.
Maura merely chuckled. "Pretend they're mine." She grinned at Jane's horrified expression. "Pretend this is my room." Her friend huffed, but found that it was working. She would never have used the covers her ma had so helpfully picked out for her. It didn't feel like her room. "Get in," Maura said gently, pulling back the strangely inviting bedspread.
Jane looked at the bed awkwardly, then slipped under the covers and sighed. She had to admit, the fabric was soft and smelled heavenly. It smelled like home. Maura helped herself to a pair of her friend's pajamas from the bottom drawer of the old oak chest and turned her back to slip into them before sitting down on the bed and wriggling under the covers.
"Maura?"
"Hmm…" The medical examiner was rubbing at her temples, feeling a slight headache overwhelm her due to the alcohol consumption.
"Thank you for being my friend again." It was pure exhaustion talking, but the infantile tone to Jane's voice broke her heart all over again.
"It's okay…" Maura murmured back. There was silence for a long while. She turned to find Jane sound asleep, lying on her side with her arm stuffed under her pillow.
They had a long way to go, the doctor knew that much, but she also knew that this would be the first restful nights' sleep that Jane would get in over a month. Promising to wake the detective up every other hour to avoid any nasty side effects of concussion, Maura snuggled a little closer to her best friend, glad she could still call her that, and smiling when she felt a long arm seek her out. Turning over, she backed herself further into the woman's embrace and let relieved tears slip from her eyes. She hadn't completely forgiven the cop - by no means. There were things unsaid that needed to be brought to the surface, like Dean, for example, and where Jane stood regarding the relationship. She tensed suddenly when the woman in gave a soft, obviously drunken kiss to her bare shoulder. She tried to hold in the chuckle and watched in the dark as Jo decided it was finally safe to jump on the bed and huddle along with them. They had a long way to go, sure… but they'd manage. They always did. She smiled, brightly in the dark, for the first time in too long. They always would