Speaking a Dead Language (1/?)
Title: Speaking a Dead Language (1/?)
Rating: R
Pairing(s): Jane Rizzoli/Maura Isles
Summary: 'She had to admit to herself that she was afraid of the one person in the world that she loved more than anything.'
Disclaimer: We don't own Rizzoli & Isles, this is not a part of the Jai Chronicles. Warning of domestic violence!
Opening another beer Jane cursed her brother. He was supposed to have come over for the Redsox game. He was supposed to have brought pizza too, so now Jane was hungry and had watched the loosing game alone. She drained this bottle like she had the others when someone knocked on the apartment door.
Wavering as she stood Jane collected her bearings and made her way to look out the peep hole at her visitor: Maura. Taking off the security chain Jane flung the door open. “Hey, M,” Jane almost purred, her bad mood of moments ago forgotten. A little more roughly than necessary the brunette pulled the blonde in to her apartment, kicking the door shut as her lips sought out Maura’s.
The smell of beer assaulted her senses, and Maura pushed Jane back as gently as she could while still exerting enough force to succeed. She had come over to check on her best friend, her girlfriend, and although she loved the attention, she didn’t love this. “You’re drunk, Jane.” she pointed out dryly, her eyes moving to the couch as she counted the bottles that littered the floor and the coffee table. Her heart sank at the number.
Moving past the brunette, Maura started picking up the bottles and throwing them into the small trashcan that sat nearest the couch. She was angry at Jane for letting this happen. Again.
Not expecting to be pushed away, Jane stumbled a little but caught herself against the wall before falling. “I’m not drunk,” slurred the detective, following her girlfriend in to the living room. Frowning at Maura picking up the bottles. Sliding her hands on to Maura’s hips Jane pulled the other woman against her. “I’m not drunk,” she asserted once more, kissing the back of the blonde’s neck a little more harshly than intended.
Maura turned around, pushing at Jane again, putting distance between them. The shooting had changed the detective, and this was one of those changes. “Stop lying, Jane. Just… stop lying,” she stated, her voice softer than intended. She was angry at Jane for letting things get this way. The medical examiner was angry because nothing she did was ever enough.
Picking up another bottle, she shook it in Jane’s face. “I’m tired of this, Jane. So just… stop lying to me.”
This time when Maura shoved her Jane stumbled back and fell, funnily enough over a stray bottle. Leaping to her feet Jane hissed, “I’m not drunk and I’m not lying.” She again retreated, with a bit more care this time, when a bottle was waved in her face. She still stumbled but kept standing, however not without a little effort. “What is your problem, Maura? What are you tired of? I have no idea what the hell you’re talking about but get that damn bottle out of my face!”
“You’re becoming an alcoholic! Do you want to be like your brother?” Maura pointed out, her anger growing just a tad. This is not what she had wanted to accomplish today, but something had to be done. Getting shot, shooting herself, had taken something away from the both of them and all the medical examiner wanted to do was find it again.
“I’m not a fucking alcoholic, Maura! And I’m not like my brother!” Grabbing the bottle that was still being waved in her face, Jane ripped the bottle free from Maura’s hand and tossed it away. The bottle shattered spectacularly against the wall. “You’re the one with issues,” Jane half roared, pushing Maura out of her space.
Maura flinched at the sound of break glass and stumbled, managing to catch herself against the edge of the couch. Looking up at Jane, her hazel-green eyes held the beginning of tears that she was trying her hardest to hold back. This wasn’t them, and it was tearing her apart at the seams to not be able to fix Jane. Keeping her distance, the blonde tried to reason with Jane again.
You just don’t give up on someone you love.
“You might not be an alcoholic yet, but you’re close Jane. Just let me help you.”
Jane saw the tears brimming in Maura’s eyes but that little gleam of knowledge was pushed out of her mind. “I don’t need your help because there is nothing wrong! God, don’t fucking judge me Maura! You don’t like it leave! You know where the damn door is!” Jane yelled, gesturing wildly enough to send Joe Friday scampering out of the living room.
“I’m not judging you, Jane. I’m not- you don’t give up on the important things. We‘re important. I just want to help!”
The sudden uncertainty she was feeling crept into her voice, making her feel smaller than she already did in the wake of Jane’s rage. Jane needed help and Maura didn’t know what else to do to get the detective to see that. Picking up another bottle, she held it in her hand, but she didn’t dare wave it in Jane’s face. Not this time. “This isn’t you-”
“I’m not giving up and I told you, I don’t fucking need help!” Again Jane grabbed the bottle out of Maura’s hand but this time snapped off the top and defiantly took a long swig. Slamming the bottle down on the end table Jane didn’t care at all when it fell over, spilling its contents all over the hardwood surface. “This isn’t me? Then maybe you don’t know me,” Jane hissed.
Standing up straight, Maura looked Jane in the eye and stepped closer to her. She could smell the beer on the detective’s breath and see the intoxicated flush in her dark cheeks. “You’re right, Jane. Maybe I don’t know you, because I believed you were better than this. I thought I knew you were better than this, but it appears that you are not.”
Jane laughed pointing a finger sloppily in Maura’s direction. “I fucking knew it! It comes back to this, I’m not good enough for you to give a damn about! You are always right Maura, I shouldn’t even try!”
“Maybe I’m the one that shouldn’t even try,” she replied after a moment, moving past Jane. She lightly shoved the detective out of her way with her side and shoulder, just wanting to get out of the apartment and go home. She couldn’t do this. Glancing back at Jane once she reached the door, the medical examiner had to admit to herself that she was afraid of the one person in the world that she loved more than anything. Without another word, she left the apartment, the door barely making any sound as it closed.