Who Are We Now? [3/?]
Title: Who Are We Now? [3/?]
Author: msanimanga [carla]
Fandom: Rizzoli & Isles
Pairing: Jane Rizzoli/Maura Isles
Rating: T
Words: 1,190
Disclaimer: I don't own anything. I'm a poor college student.
Summary: In the aftermath of the infamous shooting, Maura finds herself facing a great loss.
Author's Note: It has been quite a while since I last updated this story. I apologize, but I'm picking it up again and hoping to finish this as I planned. On a side note, if you would like to see a Rizzoli and Isles convention, @Rizzoli_Con is a twitter account campaigning for one. Follow them for instructions on how we can make it happen.
Previous Chapters:
[ Oh, Jane]
[ She's Gone]
Chapter 3 - Mary Marshall and Ma
"She's gone."
...
"What do you mean, she's gone? Where the hell could she be?" Jane clenched her jaw, wincing at the pain in her side. She was in no condition to be running around and busting through doors in a fury.
"She left, she took everything that she could fit in a moving truck and she left. She said...she just couldn't take it, Janie. You can't blame her. If any of us had the opportunity to run after losing you, we would have taken it, too." Angela's tears were back in full force, and she ran her hands along her daughter's face, testing again for transparency, assuring herself that her daughter was real.
"She couldn't take what? Shit, Ma, I-" Jane grunted, hit with another wave of pain, she sat on the couch and lifted her shirt to assess the damage.
"Janie, are you bleeding?" Angela rushed to the kitchen and retrieved a towel, bringing it to her daughter hurriedly. The panicked look on her face caught the attention of the agents standing awkwardly against the counters, prompting them to follow the older Rizzoli into the living room.
"I think the stitches might have…agh!" Jane fought the urge to cry and pressed the towel lightly against her wound, hoping to stop the flow of blood.
"Ma, please, this isn't important, I can handle a little blood. I just… I need to know where she is. I need to find her." Jane pleaded, pushing through the pain, her voice cracking with the effort.
"Janie, I don't know. She didn't say where she was going. She didn't tell anyone. She wanted to forget…she was hurting so much, baby. She shook whenever someone mentioned your name. She was fading away. I don't know how that woman made it this far…I was afraid she might…"
"No. Don't even say it. Don't even suggest it." Jane's voice took on a dangerous edge, the anger dissipating as she imagined Maura's suffering. She had seen the pain on the ME's face as she aimed the gun at herself. Before she blacked out, she had heard Maura's cries. It pained her to think that she had done something like that to someone that she had never wanted to hurt.
"Maura's strong, she's so….she's resilient, Ma. She would never…why would she leave? How could she leave?" The tears in Jane's eyes finally broke from her eyes, running down her hollowed cheeks in a steady stream.
"Jane." Her name was spoken with seriousness, the no nonsense tone that Mary used with those she was meant to protect. Jane would have almost believed it if she hadn't heard the underlying tone of concern.
"We need to go, you're still in danger, and we should have your stitches checked out again." The agent's face was stern, but her eyes softened as the detective held her head in her hands.
"Isn't there any way we can find her? Can't we send someone out there, Mary? You must know somebody…" Jane wracked her brain for answers, for possible connections, making a mental list of the people she could contact to track down the ME. Her eyes settled on the ground as she thought of the last man that she would go to.
"If she doesn't want to be found, I doubt that we can find her, Jane. We investigated…she has the means to disappear completely, not to mention the connections to some shady…"
"She wouldn't do that. She wouldn't pull those strings. She wouldn't even do it when she had to protect her own life, she would never cross that legal line!" Jane glared at the federal agent, daring her to go on with her accusation.
"You don't know her. She wouldn't…you don't know her." Jane's voice broke and she turned away, unwilling to show Mary the cracks in her fierce mask. She wouldn't allow them to see her weaknesses.
"People will do crazy things when they're in pain." Mary's voice was gentle, no longer harsh and cold. Jane was falling apart, and it wouldn't do to hurt her any further.
"She wouldn't…look, the longer we sit here and argue, the longer it'll take us to find her. I don't have time for this, I'll get her myself if I have to." Jane jumped from the couch- a stupid decision on her part, considering the stitches in her side.
"And the longer you run around with that hole in your side, the more prone you will be to infection!" Mary attempted to reason with the stubborn detective.
"Fine, if I promise to have myself stitched up again, can we go look for her? She's in danger, too. They know that she's out there." Jane began to pace, shaking her head at the prospect of Maura being threatened by the drug dealer's henchmen.
"Jane, they don't know that you're still alive. They won't go after her unless you go out there. If they find out that you're looking for her, they'll take her as bait." Marshall spoke up, catching the attention of the women in the room.
"He's right, Janie. Let them take you to a hospital, they can look for Maura without her getting hurt." Angela placed a hand on her daughter's shoulder to still her movement and giving her a pointed look.
"Okay. I'll go to the hospital. But if they don't find her in a day, I'm doing it myself." Jane turned to the agents, gesturing toward the door with a jerk of her head.
"Let's get this over with. I need to find Maura before it's too late." Jane headed toward the door, Mary and Marshall following after thanking the elder Rizzoli.
"Ma?" Jane turned before walking through the door, watching as the tears formed in her mother's eyes once again.
"I'm sorry about all this. I really didn't mean for it to happen this way. I didn't shoot myself in the gut for nothing, I'll be back. I'll fix this." At her mother's nod, Jane hurried through the doorway and toward the waiting WitSec agents.
"Where do you want this, ma'am?" The mover pushed the final piece of furniture into the living room, swiping the sweat from his brow.
"If you could place it near the fireplace…" Maura nodded when everything was placed, handed the movers generous tips and thanked them for their help before walking them out.
The house felt empty- it was foreign to her, free of any memories that may jolt her or hurt her.
It was a drastic decision, moving across the country- not to mention illogical. No distance from Boston would free her from the memories and pain within her. There would be no escape for her, only denial.
Maura held back the tears once again and made her way to her new bedroom, where Jane's shirt waited on her bed. She would sleep in it again, hoping that the scent would not fade if she continued to wear it like this.
The shirt and the few photographs in her bureau were the only physical items she had left of the detective.
Maura Isles would start over, building upon whatever pieces she had left.
Author: msanimanga [carla]
Fandom: Rizzoli & Isles
Pairing: Jane Rizzoli/Maura Isles
Rating: T
Words: 1,190
Disclaimer: I don't own anything. I'm a poor college student.
Summary: In the aftermath of the infamous shooting, Maura finds herself facing a great loss.
Author's Note: It has been quite a while since I last updated this story. I apologize, but I'm picking it up again and hoping to finish this as I planned. On a side note, if you would like to see a Rizzoli and Isles convention, @Rizzoli_Con is a twitter account campaigning for one. Follow them for instructions on how we can make it happen.
Previous Chapters:
[ Oh, Jane]
[ She's Gone]
Chapter 3 - Mary Marshall and Ma
"She's gone."
...
"What do you mean, she's gone? Where the hell could she be?" Jane clenched her jaw, wincing at the pain in her side. She was in no condition to be running around and busting through doors in a fury.
"She left, she took everything that she could fit in a moving truck and she left. She said...she just couldn't take it, Janie. You can't blame her. If any of us had the opportunity to run after losing you, we would have taken it, too." Angela's tears were back in full force, and she ran her hands along her daughter's face, testing again for transparency, assuring herself that her daughter was real.
"She couldn't take what? Shit, Ma, I-" Jane grunted, hit with another wave of pain, she sat on the couch and lifted her shirt to assess the damage.
"Janie, are you bleeding?" Angela rushed to the kitchen and retrieved a towel, bringing it to her daughter hurriedly. The panicked look on her face caught the attention of the agents standing awkwardly against the counters, prompting them to follow the older Rizzoli into the living room.
"I think the stitches might have…agh!" Jane fought the urge to cry and pressed the towel lightly against her wound, hoping to stop the flow of blood.
"Ma, please, this isn't important, I can handle a little blood. I just… I need to know where she is. I need to find her." Jane pleaded, pushing through the pain, her voice cracking with the effort.
"Janie, I don't know. She didn't say where she was going. She didn't tell anyone. She wanted to forget…she was hurting so much, baby. She shook whenever someone mentioned your name. She was fading away. I don't know how that woman made it this far…I was afraid she might…"
"No. Don't even say it. Don't even suggest it." Jane's voice took on a dangerous edge, the anger dissipating as she imagined Maura's suffering. She had seen the pain on the ME's face as she aimed the gun at herself. Before she blacked out, she had heard Maura's cries. It pained her to think that she had done something like that to someone that she had never wanted to hurt.
"Maura's strong, she's so….she's resilient, Ma. She would never…why would she leave? How could she leave?" The tears in Jane's eyes finally broke from her eyes, running down her hollowed cheeks in a steady stream.
"Jane." Her name was spoken with seriousness, the no nonsense tone that Mary used with those she was meant to protect. Jane would have almost believed it if she hadn't heard the underlying tone of concern.
"We need to go, you're still in danger, and we should have your stitches checked out again." The agent's face was stern, but her eyes softened as the detective held her head in her hands.
"Isn't there any way we can find her? Can't we send someone out there, Mary? You must know somebody…" Jane wracked her brain for answers, for possible connections, making a mental list of the people she could contact to track down the ME. Her eyes settled on the ground as she thought of the last man that she would go to.
"If she doesn't want to be found, I doubt that we can find her, Jane. We investigated…she has the means to disappear completely, not to mention the connections to some shady…"
"She wouldn't do that. She wouldn't pull those strings. She wouldn't even do it when she had to protect her own life, she would never cross that legal line!" Jane glared at the federal agent, daring her to go on with her accusation.
"You don't know her. She wouldn't…you don't know her." Jane's voice broke and she turned away, unwilling to show Mary the cracks in her fierce mask. She wouldn't allow them to see her weaknesses.
"People will do crazy things when they're in pain." Mary's voice was gentle, no longer harsh and cold. Jane was falling apart, and it wouldn't do to hurt her any further.
"She wouldn't…look, the longer we sit here and argue, the longer it'll take us to find her. I don't have time for this, I'll get her myself if I have to." Jane jumped from the couch- a stupid decision on her part, considering the stitches in her side.
"And the longer you run around with that hole in your side, the more prone you will be to infection!" Mary attempted to reason with the stubborn detective.
"Fine, if I promise to have myself stitched up again, can we go look for her? She's in danger, too. They know that she's out there." Jane began to pace, shaking her head at the prospect of Maura being threatened by the drug dealer's henchmen.
"Jane, they don't know that you're still alive. They won't go after her unless you go out there. If they find out that you're looking for her, they'll take her as bait." Marshall spoke up, catching the attention of the women in the room.
"He's right, Janie. Let them take you to a hospital, they can look for Maura without her getting hurt." Angela placed a hand on her daughter's shoulder to still her movement and giving her a pointed look.
"Okay. I'll go to the hospital. But if they don't find her in a day, I'm doing it myself." Jane turned to the agents, gesturing toward the door with a jerk of her head.
"Let's get this over with. I need to find Maura before it's too late." Jane headed toward the door, Mary and Marshall following after thanking the elder Rizzoli.
"Ma?" Jane turned before walking through the door, watching as the tears formed in her mother's eyes once again.
"I'm sorry about all this. I really didn't mean for it to happen this way. I didn't shoot myself in the gut for nothing, I'll be back. I'll fix this." At her mother's nod, Jane hurried through the doorway and toward the waiting WitSec agents.
"Where do you want this, ma'am?" The mover pushed the final piece of furniture into the living room, swiping the sweat from his brow.
"If you could place it near the fireplace…" Maura nodded when everything was placed, handed the movers generous tips and thanked them for their help before walking them out.
The house felt empty- it was foreign to her, free of any memories that may jolt her or hurt her.
It was a drastic decision, moving across the country- not to mention illogical. No distance from Boston would free her from the memories and pain within her. There would be no escape for her, only denial.
Maura held back the tears once again and made her way to her new bedroom, where Jane's shirt waited on her bed. She would sleep in it again, hoping that the scent would not fade if she continued to wear it like this.
The shirt and the few photographs in her bureau were the only physical items she had left of the detective.
Maura Isles would start over, building upon whatever pieces she had left.