Fic: Roots
Title: Roots
Author: Fanchiction
Fandom: Rizzoli & Isles
Rating: M
Pairing: Jane/Maura
Spoilers: The whole first season up to date.
Summary: Maura's family tree is missing its roots.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything. :/
I.
Maura Isles has never really been a religious person-- not the way most people are. She’s always relied on the steadfast power within science and reflection and truth. Now it seems that even those things fail her.
She has never felt more alone than she does right now, hopelessly curled up in front of Bass, who’s too preoccupied with a lettuce leaf to console her. The doorbell rings, snapping her mind to attention.
“Jane?” she says as she swings the door open. She takes in the Detective’s appearance; little-black-dress, heels, makeup. Jane looks-- “Wow,” Maura blurts.
Jane rolls her eyes and shifts her weight anxiously from side to side. “I know, I look like I’m playing dress up. These pumps make me look like a drag queen. I know, okay?”
“You look beautiful,” Maura insists with a crooked sort of grin on her face. She glances at the clock on the wall and leads the detective into the living room. “I thought you had a date--”
“--It wasn’t a date,” Jane groans. She paces the living room, while Maura takes a seat on the couch.
“Are you sure? Because usually when a man--”
“Sweetie, please stop deflecting. Korsak called and told me about Doyle.”
Maura purses her lips. “That was unnecessary.”
“Yeah, because you should’ve been the one who called me, Maura,” Jane strains. She takes a seat next to her friend on the couch.
“I didn’t want to interrupt your date.”
“It wasn’t a--” Jane’s jaw tightens. She takes a deep breath and tries again. “Maura, losing your father is a big deal.”
“Patrick Doyle was not my father, Jane. Not in the way that matters.”
“But still…”
“He’s not my father,” Maura repeats, firmer this time.
The silence that follows is thick, and Jane knows better than to pierce it with an interrogation.
“They--” Maura clears her throat. “They beheaded him, did Korsak tell you that?”
Jane grimaces.
Maura sniffs. “I’m sure he had it coming. He wasn’t exactly a saint, but--” She pauses to swallow down a massive swig of her wine. She doesn’t risk a glance in Jane’s direction because she’s not quite ready to fall to pieces. “I don’t know why I’m having an emotional reaction. It’s illogical. I didn’t even know him.” She takes a shuddering breath and braces herself for tears that won’t come.
“Hey…” Jane gently pulls the wineglass out of Maura’s grasp and sets it to the side. “You’re human, Maur. It’s okay.” She scoops Maura’s trembling body into her arms and holds her close.
At last, the tears fall. She smushes her face against Jane’s shoulder and rides out the agony she’s been fighting for the past hour.
Finally, when there are no more tears to cry, she allows her heavy eyelids to shut.
She awakens to find Jane stretched out beneath her as the sun peeks in through the curtains. She briefly wonders if the detective spent the whole night like this-- watching her sleep, listening to her breathe, drinking her wine straight from the bottle… Jane must be exhausted and a little drunk, too.
“Tell me you’re not still taking analgesics,” Maura murmurs.
“Uh… Anal-what?” Jane rasps.
“Painkillers, Jane. Combining them with alcohol would stimulate your Cytochrome P450 2E1-- Which would lead to liver damage.”
“Ah. God forbid.”
“You’re mocking me,” Maura pouts as she nuzzles further into the detective’s warmth.
“Sorry,” Jane says as she carefully strokes her fingers through messy blonde locks.
“I forgive you,” Maura yawns. She sits up and arches her back into a stretch.
“And no, I’m not taking my pain meds anymore.”
“Oh.” Maura places her hand on Jane’s abdomen where she still wears a bandage beneath her clothes. “Does it hurt?” she whispers.
Jane shifts uneasily under Maura’s fingertips. “N-no. I mean yeah, sometimes, but not right now.”
“You really should be taking your medication, Jane. Your last test results showed a slight--”
“--You looked at my last test results?”
Maura sheepishly shrugs her shoulders. “Your mother asked me to.”
“Of course she did,” Jane grumbles. “Geez…”
“I should probably get ready for work,” Maura sighs.
“You’re going into work today?”
“Well, Patrick Doyle’s autopsy isn’t going to perform itself.”
“What?” the detective demands. “You can’t-- There’s no way, Maura. There’s got to be somebody else.”
“Jane, it’s my job. It’s fine. I’m fine.”
“No, it’s not fine.” Jane clenches her fists at her sides. “I’m coming with you.”
“Jane…” Maura drawls. “That’s sweet but Dr. Mandel and Lt. Cavanaugh agreed that it would be best if you stayed away from work for awhile.”
“Fuck Cavanaugh and that head-shrinker.”
“It was an order. I don’t think it would be wise to defy them.”
“Mind your own business, Maura,” the detective growls.
“Then you do the same, Jane,” Maura counters. As Jane’s laryngeal prominence lobs up and down, she understands that she’s made her point.
II.
Jane shifts in her seat under the gaze of a particularly dreamy pair of green eyes. While she should probably be flattered, it only makes her wary. Detective Nick Bennett shoots her a smile.
“Jane? What’s wrong?” Maura asks, her forehead tight with worry and caution. “Your temporomandibular joints are tense.”
“My temper-man-whatever joints are fine, Maura,” Jane snaps.
Maura holds her beer bottle close to her lips for a moment before she twists around to get a better view of Jane’s line of vision.
“Don’t look!”
“Is someone bothering you?”
“Yes! No, it’s just Bennett from Computer Crimes. He… likes me.” To her dismay, Maura turns right back around to inspect the man in question.
“The tall one? He’s the one you stood up last night, isn’t he? He’s very attractive, Jane.”
“Then you go out with him, Maura. I’m not interested!” Jane takes a swig of her beer and rolls her eyes as Bennett sends a wink her way.
“You don’t want to hook into him?”
“It’s hook up, you dork,” Jane chuckles. “And no, I don’t.” She watches as Bennett starts to get up out of his seat. “Great, he’s coming over here.”
Maura puts her beer down and leans in close. “If it bothers you so much,” she whispers, “then do something about it.”
And before Jane can react or even process what’s happening, Maura is sliding her fingers into that thick mane of hair and tugging Jane into a kiss. It’s soft but deliberate and something else that Jane can’t quite classify.
Their lips brush together once more before Maura pulls away. “Did it work?” she asks, strictly business and reason.
Jane is plucked out of a reverent stupor as she touches her tingling lips in disbelief. “What was that?” she sputters. “What if somebody saw?”
“That was the point, Jane,” Maura deadpans.
“Oh my God.” Jane throws back a slug of her beer and smacks the bottle down on the table. “C’mon, let’s get out of here before the guys start giving us grief.”
“No,” Maura pouts. “I haven’t finished my drink.”
“They’re gonna think we’re together! They’re gonna think I’m gay.”
“Well, it’s not like they weren’t already thinking it,” Maura snorts.
Jane’s stomach does a funny kind of flip-flop. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”
“Well, you have a very dominant personality, Jane.”
“Yeah? And?” Jane sneers.
“And you happen to be comfortable with your masculine side.”
“My masculine side?”
Sensing that she’s somehow crossed a sacred, unmarked line of political correctness, Maura falters. “That didn’t come out the way I intended…”
“Really?” Jane snorts.
“But you do have a very masculine energy, Jane. And I was just playing off of the assumption--”
“Maura…”
“Well, it must’ve worked. Detective Bennett is leaving you alone now. You should actually be thanking me.”
“Great, so the next time you need to get rid of a guy, I’ll just play off the assumption that you’re socially retarded and expect my thank you card in the mail,” Jane blurts. She regrets it even as it rolls off of her tongue. The wounded look in Maura’s eyes makes her heart drop deep into her belly. “Sorry.”
Maura sighs. “Sometimes you can be such a child.”
“A man-child?” Jane scoffs.
“Jane! When I say that you’re--”
“Masculine?”
“Masculine, yes,” Maura allows, “I don’t mean it in a bad way. You’re a beautiful woman-- Femininely beautiful.” She gestures at the collection of cops scattered around the bar. “There’s not a person here who wouldn’t want to be with you. You’re a perfect balance of feminine beauty and masculine energy. Besides, in fact, gender identity has no direct correlation with sexual identity.”
Jane slowly allows a smirk to melt her scowl away. “You think I’m beautiful?” There’s a mischievous glint in her chocolate eyes. “So that’s why you cock-blocked Bennett!” she teases. “The truth comes out!”
Maura smiles despite herself. “Jane…”
“Admit it, Maur-- You wanna jump my bones!”
Maura tries for nonchalant with a shrug of her shoulders, but she can’t hide the rosy blush that spreads all the way down her neck. “I told you, there’s not a person here who wouldn’t want to be with you.”
“Uh… What?” Jane nearly chokes.
“I’m merely stating fact. I’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable but you asked and you know I can’t lie.”
“It doesn’t! I just… Forget it--” Jane’s the one blushing now. She glares at Maura. “I’m not uncomfortable.”
“You shouldn’t be,” Maura insists. “Homosexuality is quite common. The previous 10% statistic has risen over the years. And that doesn’t even include people like myself who place themselves in the middle of the Kinsey scale--”
“Thank you, Broke-Back-Mountain…” Jane snorts as she shifts uneasily in her chair. “I thought I wasn’t your type, anyway.”
“The word ‘type’ implies a pattern. You’re the only you I’ve ever come across.” Maura smiles as her blush deepens. “It doesn’t mean that I don’t find you attractive. You have a very appealing jaw line, cheekbones… your musculature is well developed-- especially around your rectus abdominis.”
Jane’s entire body begins to quake with laughter. “Only you could make this into a science project. Can’t you just say you think I’m hot like a normal person?”
“Fine,” Maura laughs. “I think you’re hot.”
“I bet you say that to all the girls,” Jane quips before she swallows down another gulp of her beer. “You too, y’know. I mean, if I had a type, you’d be it.”
“Jane!” Maura playfully bats her eyelashes. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to sweet-talk me. I think you’re glad that I cock-stopped Detective Bennett.”
Jane grins the cheekiest grin she can muster. “It’s cock-block, Maura.”
“Oh.”
And, just like that, the blush between them is equal.
“Maura…” Jane rasps, suddenly serious. She panics when she doesn’t get a response. “Maura?” Jane repeats in a desperate attempt to win her attention back.
Maura wordlessly points to the other end of the bar just as an unidentified street cop’s fist makes contact with Frankie Rizzoli’s face.
“Fuck you, Maloney!” Frankie bellows, cradling his face with one of his hands.
Jane bursts out of her chair and darts over to the scene. Detective Bennett is right at her heels.
“Hey!” Jane yells. “Take a walk!” She grabs Maloney by the lapels of his uniform and forces him off of her little brother.
“You heard her, Kid! Walk away…” Bennett warns.
Officer Maloney snarls at the Rizzoli siblings one last time before Bennett forces him out of the bar.
Jane follows close behind Frankie as he storms over to an empty table. “What the hell was that about?” she demands.
“Nothin’,” Frankie huffs. He brushes his hand over what appears to be a bloody nose and plops down into an empty booth.
Jane takes a seat across from him. “You know that fighting could cost you your badge-- What the hell were you thinking?”
“You don’t understand…”
“Understand what, Frankie? Enlighten me!”
Frankie ignores his sister while Maura reaches over to examine his nose. It’s just the three of them now, in a deserted corner of The Dirty Robber. “It’s not broken,” she sighs in relief. “I’ll go get you some ice.”
Frankie meets Jane’s gaze as soon as Maura’s out of earshot. “He was saying stuff about you, Janie.”
“About me?”
“About you and Maura.”
“What kind of stuff, Frankie?” Jane demands. As Frankie raises his eyebrows and blushes, she understands perfectly. “Oh.”
“Yeah. So I pushed him.”
Jane rakes her fingers through her thick locks. “Well, thank you for defending my honor, little brother. But guys like that are just jerks with small minds-- and even smaller dicks.”
“Yeah, I know.” Frankie nods. He locks eyes with her. “I’m not small-minded, y’know.”
“Huh?”
“I mean, whatever’s going on between you two, it’s nobody’s business.”
“What? Maybe Maura should check your head. Maloney must’ve knocked something out of place.”
“I’m serious. I’m okay with it.”
“There’s nothing to be okay with, Frankie!” Jane hisses, hoping that nobody can hear them.
Frankie eyes her suspiciously. “Really? ‘Cause when I stopped by the other night, it kinda seemed like I was interrupting something--”
“Because you were interrupting something-- a documentary on the Aztecs, Asshole!”
Frankie points an accusatory index finger. “See! That’s just it!” He lowers his voice and leans in close. “You don’t watch documentaries, Janie.”
“Sometimes she does,” Maura says out of nowhere. Jane’s cheeks blaze. “Here you go.” Maura offers Frankie an ice pack and some paper towels.
“Thanks, Doc,” Frankie murmurs into his bloody napkin. “I’m gonna catch a ride with one of my boys,” he says as he gets up out of his seat.
“Yeah, yeah…” Jane grumbles as Frankie turns to leave. “Try not to run into anymore fists on your way home.”
Maura slides into the booth across from Jane. “Poor Frankie,” she sighs.
“Poor Frankie? I’m the one Ma’s gonna kill. Everything’s always my fault.”
Maura bites her lip to conceal a chuckle.
“What?” Jane demands.
“Nothing,” Maura insists. “It’s just… You two. You’re cute.”
Jane quirks an eyebrow. “What, me and Boyscout-Bennett?”
“No, you and Frankie. The unique emotional bond of a quality sibling relationship… Family bonds, period. I’ve never had that.”
“What about your parents?”
Maura shrugs her shoulders. “My adoptive parents are wonderful in their own way-- I love them. But our family is nothing like yours.”
“Tell you what,” Jane huffs, “You can have Frankie.”
Maura manages to smile, but the sadness in her eyes is unmistakable. “Jane, I’m serious. I never even knew that I had a brother-- and when I found him it was too late.” She takes a deep breath as she stares down at the table. “And now my biological father is gone… I don’t have a clue who my biological mother is.” She looks back up at Jane. “I don’t have any roots.”
The detective’s heart twists in her chest. “I’m your roots,” she chokes. “Me and Frankie and Korsak and Frost-- Ma and Pop. We’re your roots, Maur.” She grabs Maura’s hands and squeezes them tight.
III.
The echo of voices-- very loud, Italian voices-- wafts into the entryway over the noisy clang of dishes. “Are you sure this is what you want?” Jane asks Maura in a mock-whisper that’s low and rough.
“Hey Janie, you know where Uncle Frank keeps the cooler?” a youthful, brawny, Frankie Rizzoli look-a-like asks as he stumbles out of the kitchen. “Who’s your friend?” he demands with a wiggle of his eyebrows.
“Chill out, Rico Suave.” Jane rolls her eyes at his attempt to be debonair. “Enzo, this is Maura. Maura, this is my cousin, Enzo.”
Maura smiles politely. “Nice to meet you--”
“Why are you dawdling out here?” Angela barks from the kitchen entrance. She points to Enzo. “The cooler’s on the top shelf in the garage.”
“I’m on it, Aunt Angie!” He gives Maura a valiant salute and bursts out of the room.
“You girls, too. Dinner’s ready,” Angela proclaims.
“We’ll be there in a minute, Ma!” Jane grumbles.
Angela throws her hands up. “Fine, fine. But don’t blame me if your food gets cold,” she says before venturing off into the chaos that is her dining room.
Jane shakes her head and glances back at Maura, who seems slightly overwhelmed. “You still have time to get out of this. I’ll just tell my mother that something better came up. Like a dead body.”
“Jane…”
“Think about it, Maura! We could be watching that captivating documentary on the mating habits of meerkats...”
“I’m guessing that was a use of sarcasm considering the way you reacted when I mentioned that documentary last week,” Maura chuckles. “I want to be here, Jane,” she insists.
“But why?” Jane asks out of downright disbelief.
“You asked what would make me feel better and this is it. I need to feel like… like I belong somewhere,” Maura says, her cheeks shading pink.
Jane winces at the downward shift in mood. “But you don’t belong here,” she says bluntly. “You’re too perfect to belong to this family of Neanderthals.”
“Neanderthals?” Maura’s brow furrows in confusion. “Homo sapiens neanderthalensi lived during the late Pleistocene Epoch throughout Europe, Asia, and northern Africa. They’re extinct.”
“Never mind,” Jane sighs. “C’mon, if we don’t get in there soon, Ma’s gonna freak.” She touches Maura’s elbow and leads her into the dining room.
Maura spends the bulk of her meal struggling to remember all of the names thrown at her from around the table. There are, after all, an awful lot of Rizzolis in the room.
She’s relieved when Jane asks her if she’s ready to leave. Even though the food and the company have been delightful, she welcomes the opportunity to escape all of those curious pairs of brown eyes.
When they finally get back to Maura’s house, Jane declares that she’s had too much alcohol to drive home, but not nearly enough to sit through the History Channel.
Maura, ever the problem-solver, opens a bottle of wine and flips on a documentary about Hiroshima. “I can’t believe how much food I’ve consumed today,” she says as she inexplicably pours herself a glass.
“I think the scientific term, Doctor Isles, is stuffing your face,” Jane quips. She pokes Maura in the stomach on her way to the refrigerator. “I swear I gained at least ten pounds today.” She grabs a beer and takes a seat on the kitchen counter.
“That’s impossible, Jane,” Maura snorts. She sips her wine thoughtfully. “One pound is equal to 3500 calories. You would have to consume an extra 3500 calories on top of what you burn throughout the course of the day in order to-- What?” she demands at an obvious look of disgust.
“Why do you do that?”
“It’s not my fault that you’re constantly making inaccurate claims,” Maura rationalizes. When she doesn’t get a retort in return, she tips her chin up to look at the detective. She’s surprised to discover that Jane is looking-- really looking at her.
“Thank you for tolerating my psychotic family today,” she whispers.
Maura can’t help but smile. “What? No-- They’re… sweet.”
“Really?” Jane chuckles. “Sweet? You didn’t seem to think it was sweet when Aunt Teresa mixed your froufrou bottle of wine with Ma’s 2-Buck-Chuck.”
Maura’s jaw tightens. “Yes, that was… difficult for me.”
“I can imagine.” Jane bites down on her bottom lip to stifle a laugh. “And you didn’t even pull out the google facts on them.”
“I didn’t want to embarrass you,” Maura whispers.
The detective smirks. “Why stop now?” she teases. Though her mind is a bit hazy from the alcohol, she recognizes the distress in Maura’s eyes and corrects herself. “You never embarrass me, Maura.”
“Thank you for saying that,” Maura says without very much conviction at all.
Jane hops off of the counter and tips Maura’s chin up so that she can see her face. “You don’t embarrass me,” she repeats, firmer this time. She sneaks a glance at the smaller woman’s lips.
Maura shivers as their bodies press close. They’ve been dancing around this for weeks-- especially since Jane’s been out of the hospital. There’s something about a near-death experience that makes a girl realize what she’s got and what she’s got to lose.
Maura takes a shuddering breath and rests her head beneath the Jane’s jaw. “Does this embarrass you?” she whispers.
“No,” Jane gulps. “You?”
“Not at all.”
“Maura…”
“--Are you drunk, Jane?”
“N-No. Maybe.”
“Me too. Maybe,” Maura admits, breathlessly. “Jane?”
“Huh?” Jane rasps.
“I’m going to kiss you.”
“Kay.”
But Jane doesn’t give her a chance. She takes the lead and captures that pouty little mouth in a kiss that’s so hungry it’s painful. Suddenly, there’s a frenzy of lips and teeth and tongues.
“Please-- just--!” Maura’s breath catches as she writhes under Jane’s erratic fingertips. She tugs at her own dress, but she can’t focus long enough to get it off.
“Wait-- Maura, slow down,” Jane pants.
“Oh my God,” Maura whimpers when she finally pulls away.
“Yeah,” Jane groans.
“Oh my God.” Maura stumbles backwards. “I have to go-- I have to go.” She nearly trips over Bass as she backs her way out of her own home.
“Maura, wait--” The door slams and Jane feels as if she’s been doused with a bucket of ice cold water. She mopes over to the couch and flops into its cushions.
A full minute hasn’t even passed before the door opens again. “I’m scared,” Maura whimpers as she marches back into the living room.
Jane shoots up off of the couch. “Scared?” Anger laces into confusion and they boil deep within her belly. “You kissed me, Maura--”
“If I remember correctly, it was you who kissed me. But that’s beside the point--”
“Which is?”
“That the stakes are high, Jane,” Maura says, desperately. She sighs when Jane continues to stare expectantly straight ahead at her. “You are the most important person in my life.”
“You too.”
Maura scrunches her eyes shut. “And I want this-- you.”
“I want you, too, Maur.”
“But if I screw this up--”
“--You won’t.”
Maura’s shakes her head. “Or if you… If something happens to you…”
“Like what?”
Maura halts, her breath coming out in uneven gasps. “You’re always in danger.”
“I’m a cop!” Jane says a bit too loudly. “Danger’s a part of the job description.”
Maura shakes her head. “It’s more than that. It’s you. It’s the way you do your job.”
Jane’s jaw tenses up. “That’s what you’re afraid of? You think I’m not a good enough cop--?”
“-- it’s not about being good enough!” Maura frantically explains. She’s near tears now as Jane stands stiffly in front of her. “It’s about being selfish.”
Silence strikes.
“I saw you shoot yourself, Jane. I had to scrub your blood out from underneath my fingernails-- I had to wash it out of my hair. I didn’t sleep for three days straight because I was so terrified that when I woke up, you’d be gone. I still have nightmares about the sound you made when that bullet ripped through your body, Jane.”
Jane stuffs her hands into her pockets and collapses onto the couch. “I’m sorry that you had to see me like that.”
“But you’re not sorry that you did it?” Maura says. It’s not a question-- not really. And even if it is, both of them already know the answer.
Jane swallows the lump in her throat and shuts her eyes tight. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you. I was just being…”
“Heroic? Impulsive? I know. I know that you only did what you thought you had to do but it scares me. I’m scared.”
Jane gnaws on her bottom lip as Maura fills the empty space on the couch next to her. “I should leave,” she says an eternity later.
“You can’t leave,” Maura blurts. “I mean, you can’t possibly drive right now,” she clarifies uneasily.
“I’ll call a cab,” Jane counters, pointedly. She’s shocked when Maura grabs her and presses their lips together again. The soft and the warm and the tingle of it leave her breathless.
“Stay?” Maura asks a bit desperately.
Jane doesn’t hesitate before agreeing this time.
IV.
“All my favorite parts of you are scarred,” Maura declares into the silence. She traces her fingers across the awful mark beneath Jane’s t-shirt, where a bullet passed through only months ago and pulls the detective’s hand to her lips so that she can press a tender kiss to one of the unsightly scars on her palm.
Jane blinks slowly. She considers sitting up, but the unrelenting throbbing in her head prevents her from putting it into action. Instead, she remains anchored to the bed in fetal position, her abdomen spasming under the soft tickle of Maura’s fingertips. “I think I overdid it with the booze…” she laments. She immediately wishes that she had the capacity to say more.
“That’s an understatement,” the good doctor hums. She scoots away and untangles her limbs from Jane’s, temporarily leaving her position as the ‘big spoon’.
Jane immediately misses the body heat against her. As she turns her head to inspect the situation, she realizes that Maura is still bare beneath the sheets. The thought of it shocks her. The idea of it thrills her. “About last night…” she croaks, her voice thick with sleep. Maura’s head cocks over to the side like a befuddled puppy and Jane’s sure she’s never seen anything more adorable. “We’ve never… done that before.” She shakes her head and groans at her own lack of articulation. “Obviously,” she snorts. “Listen, Maura, sometimes, when I get drunk, I do stupid things--”
“I’m aware,” Maura says.
Jane rolls her eyes. “The point is… I would never want to take advantage of you--”
“-- You didn’t. I was…” Maura refrains from saying eager or begging for it and settles on “…a willing participant.”
“A willing participant?” Jane repeats, incredulously.
“You know what I mean. What happened between us was entirely mutual, regardless of whether I was emotionally compromised or not. Besides, studies have shown that excessive alcohol consumption tends to increase levels of testosterone--”
“--Don’t. Do not turn this into one of your little science projects, Maura. Please.” Jane gestures wildly with her hands. “I mean, we slept together.”
Maura chews on her bottom lip as the words sink in. “Yes, we did.”
Jane runs her fingers through her thick mane of hair and exhales. The sound of it pierces the silence. “God, I feel like my head’s on the inside of a blender. I need coffee. Can’t you prescribe some kind of doctorly hangover remedy or something?”
“Actually, coffee is a diuretic--”
“Maura, please…”
“Sorry,” Maura sighs. “There’s some Aspirin in the bathroom for your headache.”
Jane stumbles out of bed. Her bare feet are loud and cold against the tiled floors in the master bathroom. She grabs the pills and swallows them down with a handful of faucet water.
Maura politely averts her uneasy gaze from underneath Jane’s boy shorts where there’s a clear view of a bruise she kissed into place between Jane’s legs the night before. She shifts to unravel her bottom half from the sheets and raises up on her haunches.
She’s strikingly beautiful like this, with her hair wild and her body exposed. She’s a vision of untamed perfection and she doesn’t even know it. Her stomach growls noisily as she arches her back into a stretch.
“Hungry?” Jane murmurs as she pulls Maura into her body. The sheet between them slips away and she has to try desperately not to gape at the dusky nipples peeking out from beneath the covers or the hickey on Maura’s collarbone or the unsteady pace of her own racing heart. She carefully draws back to tuck a stray lock of hair behind Maura’s ear. “I guess the real question is, are you okay with this?”
The smaller woman’s cheeks dimple as she collapses backwards into a sea of pillows. “I’m more than okay with this,” she giggles. Her glee dies a sudden death. “Are you?” she asks. “I can touch you, if you want. I wanted to last night but you wouldn’t let me.”
“I told you, it’s fine. I still…” Jane swallows, “Y’know-- finished.”
Maura’s forehead crumples. “You don’t want me to make love to you?” she asks hesitantly.
“No!” Jane squeaks. “I mean… That’s not-- Of course I do, Maura. Later, okay? Last night was about you.”
“It’s not ‘last night’ anymore,” Maura points out.
Jane’s cheeks are scarlet. She turns over onto her side to face away from Maura.
“Jane? What is it?”
“I um…” Jane chokes on the first words out of her mouth, clears her throat, and starts all over again. “I haven’t let anyone touch me since Hoyt kidnapped me.”
Maura’s heart skips a full beat. “Did he--?” she chokes back a well of emotion. “Did he do something to you, Jane?”
“No!” Jane yelps. “I mean, nothing like that… Geez, Maura-- That’s not what I meant. It’s a control thing. I just don’t want to feel…”
“Helpless?”
Jane turns back over to face Maura. “Yeah. Helpless.”
The moment is awkward even if it isn’t completely threatening. Jane isn’t used to being so vulnerable, but she’s tired and hungover and sleepiness overwhelms her compulsion to run away.
When she wakes up again, Maura is nowhere to be found.
V.
With a belly full of gnocchi and head free of thoughts, Jane Rizzoli is at peace. Here, in her childhood bedroom on the twin-sized bed she outgrew years ago, Jane is free to teeter on the brink of restful, uninterrupted sleep--
“Jaaanie,” Angela sing-songs. She bursts into the room and plops down on the edge of the bed. “How are you feeling?”
“Not great,” Jane grumbles.
“Why, what’s wrong?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe it’s the gunshot wound in my gut.”
Angela rolls her eyes. “You know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Is there anything you wanna talk about?”
“Nope. Nothing.” Jane eyes her mother suspiciously. “What are you getting at, Ma?”
“There are just some things I thought you might wanna talk about.”
“What kind of things?”
“Things!” Angela hesitates, “Things like… Maura.”
Jane’s face hardens. “I don’t want to talk about her,” she says without much room for argument.
“I know how you feel about her. I know about your… feelings.”
Jane’s eyes grow impossibly wide. “My what?”
“Janie, it’s okay. I just wish you would’ve told me before.”
“Told you what?”
“I wouldn’t have set you up with Charlie Russo or Paul Benedetti if I’d known about you and Maura.”
“Maura has nothing to do with me and those douchebags.”
Angela makes a face. “Eleanor Grant told me that you broke her little Joey’s heart.”
“He’ll get over it,” Jane snorts.
“Janie…”
“Drop it, Ma. Please.”
“What, you think I don’t see what’s right in front of my face with you and Maura? You think you can’t talk to your mother about these things?”
“What things, Ma?” Jane frantically demands. “We aren’t-- I’m not--”
“You think I would mind if you were like that? Your cousin Ray brings his lover to Christmas dinner every year-- Have I ever said anything about it?”
“His Lover? Really? I can’t-- Maura and I are not lovers, Ma! Geez, what’s wrong with you?”
Angela scrunches her brow up in concern. “All I’m saying is that it’s okay with the family. She’s a good girl. And she was so sad when you were in the hospital. She was there every day-- Your father had to force her to go home.”
“Yeah?” Jane bellows. “Well, she’s gone now.”
Angela leans in close as her voice lowers into a harsh whisper. “You have no idea what she went through, do you? You should’ve seen that poor girl-- mascara running down her face that day-- covered in your blood! And why? Because you shot yourself. Real smart, Janie.”
“Ma…” Jane warns.
“Fine,” Angela sighs. “But me and Daddy have come to love Maura. Like a daughter. And we-- Sometimes we wonder what you love her like.”
Jane shuts her eyes tight and lets out a deep breath. “How am I supposed to respond to that?”
Angela turns towards the door. “I don’t know. But you better figure it out because she’s in the living room.”
“What?”
“What was I supposed to do? Turn her away?”
“Yes!” Jane yells. “That’s exactly what you were supposed to do!” She storms downstairs and freezes when she sees Maura on the couch, hunched over, with her head in her hands. She takes a tentative step forward. “Hey.”
Maura looks up so that Jane can see the agony in her eyes. “Hi.”
“Is everything all right down there?” Angela hollers from upstairs.
“Everything’s fine, Ma!” Jane shouts. She relaxes a little when she hears her parents’ bedroom door close. “I tried to call you,” she rasps.
“I know,” Maura whispers.
Jane’s rage withers at the sight of Maura’s tightly drawn face. “Are you crying?”
Maura sniffles even as she shakes her head from side to side.
“Shit.” Jane’s stomach wrenches. “Don’t cry, Maur. Please.” She steps forward and wraps her arms around the smaller woman. “C’mon, I’ll take you home.”
VI.
“This is too much,” Jane thinks to herself as Maura’s lips hover dangerously low on her hips. She arches and moans and tries desperately hard not to grab a handful of dirty blonde hair. “Stop!” she squeaks.
Maura’s head snaps up. “Did I do something wrong?”
“N-Nuh,” Jane swallows and pants. “No, I just… It’s been awhile.” Her skin is hot and red and she fights the urge to cover herself up.
Maura’s forehead crumples. “I told you I’d wait for you.”
“I don’t want to wait,” Jane groans. Her face is drawn tight like she’s in agony as she throbs between her legs.
“Then… what is it?” Maura demands.
Jane chews her lip and opens her eyes to stare up at the ceiling. “I’m… It’s embarrassing.” She swallows again. “I’m already… close.”
“Oh.” Maura smiles then, and gently cups Jane’s sex with one hand. “That’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”
“Fuck! Maur…”
“You’re so wet,” Maura breathes right before she spreads her to take her first taste.
Jane nearly comes on the spot. “Maura,” she moans.
Maura’s mouth is relentless as she slips two fingers inside. The friction of it is incredible. “God,” she hisses. “You feel so good, Jane.”
"Maura!" Jane’s body writhes and twists. “I’m gonna-- I’m--” She does.
Maura clings to her and keeps her anchored to the bed as she curls her fingers through the ride of it. The only sound that follows is the noise of their heavy breathing tangling in the room.
“Did I do it right?” Maura asks after awhile. She hesitates before crawling back up Jane’s trembling body.
“Yeah, Maur. You did it right. C’mere.” Jane snorts out a laugh as she pulls Maura in and tastes herself on her lips. "God, I love you."
"I love you, too."
VI.
Maura wanders through the untouched Rizzoli sitting room, the gallery of photographs tells stories of memories shared. She smiles at the awkward school portraits and the forced smiles on Jane and Frankie and Tommy’s faces.
“You disappeared,” Jane rasps from the doorway.
Maura jolts at the sound of her voice. “Who won the basketball game?” she asks.
Jane rolls her eyes as she swaggers towards her girlfriend. “Frankie and Enzo think they won, but they’re delusional.” She holds her hand out for Maura to take. “C’mon, Ma made you zepoli. She’s going to have an aneurism if you don’t come eat it.”
Just as they’re about to leave the room, Maura catches a glimpse of a picture of her and Jane from the night of the marathon. She lets go of Jane’s hand and picks up the frame.
“Aw, Geez. I told Pop not to put that up,” Jane groans. “Look at us!”
Maura smiles. They do look a bit sweaty and fatigued, but happy nonetheless. “Frank put this in here?” she asks.
“Yeah.” Jane shrugs her shoulders. “C’mon.”
Maura obliges and follows Jane into the kitchen, where she’s greeted by a roomful of Rizzolis. She may not be a religious person but, in this moment, she feels like God or the Universe or the Powers that be have given her everything she needs.
For once, she can say that she has roots.
Author: Fanchiction
Fandom: Rizzoli & Isles
Rating: M
Pairing: Jane/Maura
Spoilers: The whole first season up to date.
Summary: Maura's family tree is missing its roots.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything. :/
I.
Maura Isles has never really been a religious person-- not the way most people are. She’s always relied on the steadfast power within science and reflection and truth. Now it seems that even those things fail her.
She has never felt more alone than she does right now, hopelessly curled up in front of Bass, who’s too preoccupied with a lettuce leaf to console her. The doorbell rings, snapping her mind to attention.
“Jane?” she says as she swings the door open. She takes in the Detective’s appearance; little-black-dress, heels, makeup. Jane looks-- “Wow,” Maura blurts.
Jane rolls her eyes and shifts her weight anxiously from side to side. “I know, I look like I’m playing dress up. These pumps make me look like a drag queen. I know, okay?”
“You look beautiful,” Maura insists with a crooked sort of grin on her face. She glances at the clock on the wall and leads the detective into the living room. “I thought you had a date--”
“--It wasn’t a date,” Jane groans. She paces the living room, while Maura takes a seat on the couch.
“Are you sure? Because usually when a man--”
“Sweetie, please stop deflecting. Korsak called and told me about Doyle.”
Maura purses her lips. “That was unnecessary.”
“Yeah, because you should’ve been the one who called me, Maura,” Jane strains. She takes a seat next to her friend on the couch.
“I didn’t want to interrupt your date.”
“It wasn’t a--” Jane’s jaw tightens. She takes a deep breath and tries again. “Maura, losing your father is a big deal.”
“Patrick Doyle was not my father, Jane. Not in the way that matters.”
“But still…”
“He’s not my father,” Maura repeats, firmer this time.
The silence that follows is thick, and Jane knows better than to pierce it with an interrogation.
“They--” Maura clears her throat. “They beheaded him, did Korsak tell you that?”
Jane grimaces.
Maura sniffs. “I’m sure he had it coming. He wasn’t exactly a saint, but--” She pauses to swallow down a massive swig of her wine. She doesn’t risk a glance in Jane’s direction because she’s not quite ready to fall to pieces. “I don’t know why I’m having an emotional reaction. It’s illogical. I didn’t even know him.” She takes a shuddering breath and braces herself for tears that won’t come.
“Hey…” Jane gently pulls the wineglass out of Maura’s grasp and sets it to the side. “You’re human, Maur. It’s okay.” She scoops Maura’s trembling body into her arms and holds her close.
At last, the tears fall. She smushes her face against Jane’s shoulder and rides out the agony she’s been fighting for the past hour.
Finally, when there are no more tears to cry, she allows her heavy eyelids to shut.
She awakens to find Jane stretched out beneath her as the sun peeks in through the curtains. She briefly wonders if the detective spent the whole night like this-- watching her sleep, listening to her breathe, drinking her wine straight from the bottle… Jane must be exhausted and a little drunk, too.
“Tell me you’re not still taking analgesics,” Maura murmurs.
“Uh… Anal-what?” Jane rasps.
“Painkillers, Jane. Combining them with alcohol would stimulate your Cytochrome P450 2E1-- Which would lead to liver damage.”
“Ah. God forbid.”
“You’re mocking me,” Maura pouts as she nuzzles further into the detective’s warmth.
“Sorry,” Jane says as she carefully strokes her fingers through messy blonde locks.
“I forgive you,” Maura yawns. She sits up and arches her back into a stretch.
“And no, I’m not taking my pain meds anymore.”
“Oh.” Maura places her hand on Jane’s abdomen where she still wears a bandage beneath her clothes. “Does it hurt?” she whispers.
Jane shifts uneasily under Maura’s fingertips. “N-no. I mean yeah, sometimes, but not right now.”
“You really should be taking your medication, Jane. Your last test results showed a slight--”
“--You looked at my last test results?”
Maura sheepishly shrugs her shoulders. “Your mother asked me to.”
“Of course she did,” Jane grumbles. “Geez…”
“I should probably get ready for work,” Maura sighs.
“You’re going into work today?”
“Well, Patrick Doyle’s autopsy isn’t going to perform itself.”
“What?” the detective demands. “You can’t-- There’s no way, Maura. There’s got to be somebody else.”
“Jane, it’s my job. It’s fine. I’m fine.”
“No, it’s not fine.” Jane clenches her fists at her sides. “I’m coming with you.”
“Jane…” Maura drawls. “That’s sweet but Dr. Mandel and Lt. Cavanaugh agreed that it would be best if you stayed away from work for awhile.”
“Fuck Cavanaugh and that head-shrinker.”
“It was an order. I don’t think it would be wise to defy them.”
“Mind your own business, Maura,” the detective growls.
“Then you do the same, Jane,” Maura counters. As Jane’s laryngeal prominence lobs up and down, she understands that she’s made her point.
II.
Jane shifts in her seat under the gaze of a particularly dreamy pair of green eyes. While she should probably be flattered, it only makes her wary. Detective Nick Bennett shoots her a smile.
“Jane? What’s wrong?” Maura asks, her forehead tight with worry and caution. “Your temporomandibular joints are tense.”
“My temper-man-whatever joints are fine, Maura,” Jane snaps.
Maura holds her beer bottle close to her lips for a moment before she twists around to get a better view of Jane’s line of vision.
“Don’t look!”
“Is someone bothering you?”
“Yes! No, it’s just Bennett from Computer Crimes. He… likes me.” To her dismay, Maura turns right back around to inspect the man in question.
“The tall one? He’s the one you stood up last night, isn’t he? He’s very attractive, Jane.”
“Then you go out with him, Maura. I’m not interested!” Jane takes a swig of her beer and rolls her eyes as Bennett sends a wink her way.
“You don’t want to hook into him?”
“It’s hook up, you dork,” Jane chuckles. “And no, I don’t.” She watches as Bennett starts to get up out of his seat. “Great, he’s coming over here.”
Maura puts her beer down and leans in close. “If it bothers you so much,” she whispers, “then do something about it.”
And before Jane can react or even process what’s happening, Maura is sliding her fingers into that thick mane of hair and tugging Jane into a kiss. It’s soft but deliberate and something else that Jane can’t quite classify.
Their lips brush together once more before Maura pulls away. “Did it work?” she asks, strictly business and reason.
Jane is plucked out of a reverent stupor as she touches her tingling lips in disbelief. “What was that?” she sputters. “What if somebody saw?”
“That was the point, Jane,” Maura deadpans.
“Oh my God.” Jane throws back a slug of her beer and smacks the bottle down on the table. “C’mon, let’s get out of here before the guys start giving us grief.”
“No,” Maura pouts. “I haven’t finished my drink.”
“They’re gonna think we’re together! They’re gonna think I’m gay.”
“Well, it’s not like they weren’t already thinking it,” Maura snorts.
Jane’s stomach does a funny kind of flip-flop. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”
“Well, you have a very dominant personality, Jane.”
“Yeah? And?” Jane sneers.
“And you happen to be comfortable with your masculine side.”
“My masculine side?”
Sensing that she’s somehow crossed a sacred, unmarked line of political correctness, Maura falters. “That didn’t come out the way I intended…”
“Really?” Jane snorts.
“But you do have a very masculine energy, Jane. And I was just playing off of the assumption--”
“Maura…”
“Well, it must’ve worked. Detective Bennett is leaving you alone now. You should actually be thanking me.”
“Great, so the next time you need to get rid of a guy, I’ll just play off the assumption that you’re socially retarded and expect my thank you card in the mail,” Jane blurts. She regrets it even as it rolls off of her tongue. The wounded look in Maura’s eyes makes her heart drop deep into her belly. “Sorry.”
Maura sighs. “Sometimes you can be such a child.”
“A man-child?” Jane scoffs.
“Jane! When I say that you’re--”
“Masculine?”
“Masculine, yes,” Maura allows, “I don’t mean it in a bad way. You’re a beautiful woman-- Femininely beautiful.” She gestures at the collection of cops scattered around the bar. “There’s not a person here who wouldn’t want to be with you. You’re a perfect balance of feminine beauty and masculine energy. Besides, in fact, gender identity has no direct correlation with sexual identity.”
Jane slowly allows a smirk to melt her scowl away. “You think I’m beautiful?” There’s a mischievous glint in her chocolate eyes. “So that’s why you cock-blocked Bennett!” she teases. “The truth comes out!”
Maura smiles despite herself. “Jane…”
“Admit it, Maur-- You wanna jump my bones!”
Maura tries for nonchalant with a shrug of her shoulders, but she can’t hide the rosy blush that spreads all the way down her neck. “I told you, there’s not a person here who wouldn’t want to be with you.”
“Uh… What?” Jane nearly chokes.
“I’m merely stating fact. I’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable but you asked and you know I can’t lie.”
“It doesn’t! I just… Forget it--” Jane’s the one blushing now. She glares at Maura. “I’m not uncomfortable.”
“You shouldn’t be,” Maura insists. “Homosexuality is quite common. The previous 10% statistic has risen over the years. And that doesn’t even include people like myself who place themselves in the middle of the Kinsey scale--”
“Thank you, Broke-Back-Mountain…” Jane snorts as she shifts uneasily in her chair. “I thought I wasn’t your type, anyway.”
“The word ‘type’ implies a pattern. You’re the only you I’ve ever come across.” Maura smiles as her blush deepens. “It doesn’t mean that I don’t find you attractive. You have a very appealing jaw line, cheekbones… your musculature is well developed-- especially around your rectus abdominis.”
Jane’s entire body begins to quake with laughter. “Only you could make this into a science project. Can’t you just say you think I’m hot like a normal person?”
“Fine,” Maura laughs. “I think you’re hot.”
“I bet you say that to all the girls,” Jane quips before she swallows down another gulp of her beer. “You too, y’know. I mean, if I had a type, you’d be it.”
“Jane!” Maura playfully bats her eyelashes. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to sweet-talk me. I think you’re glad that I cock-stopped Detective Bennett.”
Jane grins the cheekiest grin she can muster. “It’s cock-block, Maura.”
“Oh.”
And, just like that, the blush between them is equal.
“Maura…” Jane rasps, suddenly serious. She panics when she doesn’t get a response. “Maura?” Jane repeats in a desperate attempt to win her attention back.
Maura wordlessly points to the other end of the bar just as an unidentified street cop’s fist makes contact with Frankie Rizzoli’s face.
“Fuck you, Maloney!” Frankie bellows, cradling his face with one of his hands.
Jane bursts out of her chair and darts over to the scene. Detective Bennett is right at her heels.
“Hey!” Jane yells. “Take a walk!” She grabs Maloney by the lapels of his uniform and forces him off of her little brother.
“You heard her, Kid! Walk away…” Bennett warns.
Officer Maloney snarls at the Rizzoli siblings one last time before Bennett forces him out of the bar.
Jane follows close behind Frankie as he storms over to an empty table. “What the hell was that about?” she demands.
“Nothin’,” Frankie huffs. He brushes his hand over what appears to be a bloody nose and plops down into an empty booth.
Jane takes a seat across from him. “You know that fighting could cost you your badge-- What the hell were you thinking?”
“You don’t understand…”
“Understand what, Frankie? Enlighten me!”
Frankie ignores his sister while Maura reaches over to examine his nose. It’s just the three of them now, in a deserted corner of The Dirty Robber. “It’s not broken,” she sighs in relief. “I’ll go get you some ice.”
Frankie meets Jane’s gaze as soon as Maura’s out of earshot. “He was saying stuff about you, Janie.”
“About me?”
“About you and Maura.”
“What kind of stuff, Frankie?” Jane demands. As Frankie raises his eyebrows and blushes, she understands perfectly. “Oh.”
“Yeah. So I pushed him.”
Jane rakes her fingers through her thick locks. “Well, thank you for defending my honor, little brother. But guys like that are just jerks with small minds-- and even smaller dicks.”
“Yeah, I know.” Frankie nods. He locks eyes with her. “I’m not small-minded, y’know.”
“Huh?”
“I mean, whatever’s going on between you two, it’s nobody’s business.”
“What? Maybe Maura should check your head. Maloney must’ve knocked something out of place.”
“I’m serious. I’m okay with it.”
“There’s nothing to be okay with, Frankie!” Jane hisses, hoping that nobody can hear them.
Frankie eyes her suspiciously. “Really? ‘Cause when I stopped by the other night, it kinda seemed like I was interrupting something--”
“Because you were interrupting something-- a documentary on the Aztecs, Asshole!”
Frankie points an accusatory index finger. “See! That’s just it!” He lowers his voice and leans in close. “You don’t watch documentaries, Janie.”
“Sometimes she does,” Maura says out of nowhere. Jane’s cheeks blaze. “Here you go.” Maura offers Frankie an ice pack and some paper towels.
“Thanks, Doc,” Frankie murmurs into his bloody napkin. “I’m gonna catch a ride with one of my boys,” he says as he gets up out of his seat.
“Yeah, yeah…” Jane grumbles as Frankie turns to leave. “Try not to run into anymore fists on your way home.”
Maura slides into the booth across from Jane. “Poor Frankie,” she sighs.
“Poor Frankie? I’m the one Ma’s gonna kill. Everything’s always my fault.”
Maura bites her lip to conceal a chuckle.
“What?” Jane demands.
“Nothing,” Maura insists. “It’s just… You two. You’re cute.”
Jane quirks an eyebrow. “What, me and Boyscout-Bennett?”
“No, you and Frankie. The unique emotional bond of a quality sibling relationship… Family bonds, period. I’ve never had that.”
“What about your parents?”
Maura shrugs her shoulders. “My adoptive parents are wonderful in their own way-- I love them. But our family is nothing like yours.”
“Tell you what,” Jane huffs, “You can have Frankie.”
Maura manages to smile, but the sadness in her eyes is unmistakable. “Jane, I’m serious. I never even knew that I had a brother-- and when I found him it was too late.” She takes a deep breath as she stares down at the table. “And now my biological father is gone… I don’t have a clue who my biological mother is.” She looks back up at Jane. “I don’t have any roots.”
The detective’s heart twists in her chest. “I’m your roots,” she chokes. “Me and Frankie and Korsak and Frost-- Ma and Pop. We’re your roots, Maur.” She grabs Maura’s hands and squeezes them tight.
III.
The echo of voices-- very loud, Italian voices-- wafts into the entryway over the noisy clang of dishes. “Are you sure this is what you want?” Jane asks Maura in a mock-whisper that’s low and rough.
“Hey Janie, you know where Uncle Frank keeps the cooler?” a youthful, brawny, Frankie Rizzoli look-a-like asks as he stumbles out of the kitchen. “Who’s your friend?” he demands with a wiggle of his eyebrows.
“Chill out, Rico Suave.” Jane rolls her eyes at his attempt to be debonair. “Enzo, this is Maura. Maura, this is my cousin, Enzo.”
Maura smiles politely. “Nice to meet you--”
“Why are you dawdling out here?” Angela barks from the kitchen entrance. She points to Enzo. “The cooler’s on the top shelf in the garage.”
“I’m on it, Aunt Angie!” He gives Maura a valiant salute and bursts out of the room.
“You girls, too. Dinner’s ready,” Angela proclaims.
“We’ll be there in a minute, Ma!” Jane grumbles.
Angela throws her hands up. “Fine, fine. But don’t blame me if your food gets cold,” she says before venturing off into the chaos that is her dining room.
Jane shakes her head and glances back at Maura, who seems slightly overwhelmed. “You still have time to get out of this. I’ll just tell my mother that something better came up. Like a dead body.”
“Jane…”
“Think about it, Maura! We could be watching that captivating documentary on the mating habits of meerkats...”
“I’m guessing that was a use of sarcasm considering the way you reacted when I mentioned that documentary last week,” Maura chuckles. “I want to be here, Jane,” she insists.
“But why?” Jane asks out of downright disbelief.
“You asked what would make me feel better and this is it. I need to feel like… like I belong somewhere,” Maura says, her cheeks shading pink.
Jane winces at the downward shift in mood. “But you don’t belong here,” she says bluntly. “You’re too perfect to belong to this family of Neanderthals.”
“Neanderthals?” Maura’s brow furrows in confusion. “Homo sapiens neanderthalensi lived during the late Pleistocene Epoch throughout Europe, Asia, and northern Africa. They’re extinct.”
“Never mind,” Jane sighs. “C’mon, if we don’t get in there soon, Ma’s gonna freak.” She touches Maura’s elbow and leads her into the dining room.
Maura spends the bulk of her meal struggling to remember all of the names thrown at her from around the table. There are, after all, an awful lot of Rizzolis in the room.
She’s relieved when Jane asks her if she’s ready to leave. Even though the food and the company have been delightful, she welcomes the opportunity to escape all of those curious pairs of brown eyes.
When they finally get back to Maura’s house, Jane declares that she’s had too much alcohol to drive home, but not nearly enough to sit through the History Channel.
Maura, ever the problem-solver, opens a bottle of wine and flips on a documentary about Hiroshima. “I can’t believe how much food I’ve consumed today,” she says as she inexplicably pours herself a glass.
“I think the scientific term, Doctor Isles, is stuffing your face,” Jane quips. She pokes Maura in the stomach on her way to the refrigerator. “I swear I gained at least ten pounds today.” She grabs a beer and takes a seat on the kitchen counter.
“That’s impossible, Jane,” Maura snorts. She sips her wine thoughtfully. “One pound is equal to 3500 calories. You would have to consume an extra 3500 calories on top of what you burn throughout the course of the day in order to-- What?” she demands at an obvious look of disgust.
“Why do you do that?”
“It’s not my fault that you’re constantly making inaccurate claims,” Maura rationalizes. When she doesn’t get a retort in return, she tips her chin up to look at the detective. She’s surprised to discover that Jane is looking-- really looking at her.
“Thank you for tolerating my psychotic family today,” she whispers.
Maura can’t help but smile. “What? No-- They’re… sweet.”
“Really?” Jane chuckles. “Sweet? You didn’t seem to think it was sweet when Aunt Teresa mixed your froufrou bottle of wine with Ma’s 2-Buck-Chuck.”
Maura’s jaw tightens. “Yes, that was… difficult for me.”
“I can imagine.” Jane bites down on her bottom lip to stifle a laugh. “And you didn’t even pull out the google facts on them.”
“I didn’t want to embarrass you,” Maura whispers.
The detective smirks. “Why stop now?” she teases. Though her mind is a bit hazy from the alcohol, she recognizes the distress in Maura’s eyes and corrects herself. “You never embarrass me, Maura.”
“Thank you for saying that,” Maura says without very much conviction at all.
Jane hops off of the counter and tips Maura’s chin up so that she can see her face. “You don’t embarrass me,” she repeats, firmer this time. She sneaks a glance at the smaller woman’s lips.
Maura shivers as their bodies press close. They’ve been dancing around this for weeks-- especially since Jane’s been out of the hospital. There’s something about a near-death experience that makes a girl realize what she’s got and what she’s got to lose.
Maura takes a shuddering breath and rests her head beneath the Jane’s jaw. “Does this embarrass you?” she whispers.
“No,” Jane gulps. “You?”
“Not at all.”
“Maura…”
“--Are you drunk, Jane?”
“N-No. Maybe.”
“Me too. Maybe,” Maura admits, breathlessly. “Jane?”
“Huh?” Jane rasps.
“I’m going to kiss you.”
“Kay.”
But Jane doesn’t give her a chance. She takes the lead and captures that pouty little mouth in a kiss that’s so hungry it’s painful. Suddenly, there’s a frenzy of lips and teeth and tongues.
“Please-- just--!” Maura’s breath catches as she writhes under Jane’s erratic fingertips. She tugs at her own dress, but she can’t focus long enough to get it off.
“Wait-- Maura, slow down,” Jane pants.
“Oh my God,” Maura whimpers when she finally pulls away.
“Yeah,” Jane groans.
“Oh my God.” Maura stumbles backwards. “I have to go-- I have to go.” She nearly trips over Bass as she backs her way out of her own home.
“Maura, wait--” The door slams and Jane feels as if she’s been doused with a bucket of ice cold water. She mopes over to the couch and flops into its cushions.
A full minute hasn’t even passed before the door opens again. “I’m scared,” Maura whimpers as she marches back into the living room.
Jane shoots up off of the couch. “Scared?” Anger laces into confusion and they boil deep within her belly. “You kissed me, Maura--”
“If I remember correctly, it was you who kissed me. But that’s beside the point--”
“Which is?”
“That the stakes are high, Jane,” Maura says, desperately. She sighs when Jane continues to stare expectantly straight ahead at her. “You are the most important person in my life.”
“You too.”
Maura scrunches her eyes shut. “And I want this-- you.”
“I want you, too, Maur.”
“But if I screw this up--”
“--You won’t.”
Maura’s shakes her head. “Or if you… If something happens to you…”
“Like what?”
Maura halts, her breath coming out in uneven gasps. “You’re always in danger.”
“I’m a cop!” Jane says a bit too loudly. “Danger’s a part of the job description.”
Maura shakes her head. “It’s more than that. It’s you. It’s the way you do your job.”
Jane’s jaw tenses up. “That’s what you’re afraid of? You think I’m not a good enough cop--?”
“-- it’s not about being good enough!” Maura frantically explains. She’s near tears now as Jane stands stiffly in front of her. “It’s about being selfish.”
Silence strikes.
“I saw you shoot yourself, Jane. I had to scrub your blood out from underneath my fingernails-- I had to wash it out of my hair. I didn’t sleep for three days straight because I was so terrified that when I woke up, you’d be gone. I still have nightmares about the sound you made when that bullet ripped through your body, Jane.”
Jane stuffs her hands into her pockets and collapses onto the couch. “I’m sorry that you had to see me like that.”
“But you’re not sorry that you did it?” Maura says. It’s not a question-- not really. And even if it is, both of them already know the answer.
Jane swallows the lump in her throat and shuts her eyes tight. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you. I was just being…”
“Heroic? Impulsive? I know. I know that you only did what you thought you had to do but it scares me. I’m scared.”
Jane gnaws on her bottom lip as Maura fills the empty space on the couch next to her. “I should leave,” she says an eternity later.
“You can’t leave,” Maura blurts. “I mean, you can’t possibly drive right now,” she clarifies uneasily.
“I’ll call a cab,” Jane counters, pointedly. She’s shocked when Maura grabs her and presses their lips together again. The soft and the warm and the tingle of it leave her breathless.
“Stay?” Maura asks a bit desperately.
Jane doesn’t hesitate before agreeing this time.
IV.
“All my favorite parts of you are scarred,” Maura declares into the silence. She traces her fingers across the awful mark beneath Jane’s t-shirt, where a bullet passed through only months ago and pulls the detective’s hand to her lips so that she can press a tender kiss to one of the unsightly scars on her palm.
Jane blinks slowly. She considers sitting up, but the unrelenting throbbing in her head prevents her from putting it into action. Instead, she remains anchored to the bed in fetal position, her abdomen spasming under the soft tickle of Maura’s fingertips. “I think I overdid it with the booze…” she laments. She immediately wishes that she had the capacity to say more.
“That’s an understatement,” the good doctor hums. She scoots away and untangles her limbs from Jane’s, temporarily leaving her position as the ‘big spoon’.
Jane immediately misses the body heat against her. As she turns her head to inspect the situation, she realizes that Maura is still bare beneath the sheets. The thought of it shocks her. The idea of it thrills her. “About last night…” she croaks, her voice thick with sleep. Maura’s head cocks over to the side like a befuddled puppy and Jane’s sure she’s never seen anything more adorable. “We’ve never… done that before.” She shakes her head and groans at her own lack of articulation. “Obviously,” she snorts. “Listen, Maura, sometimes, when I get drunk, I do stupid things--”
“I’m aware,” Maura says.
Jane rolls her eyes. “The point is… I would never want to take advantage of you--”
“-- You didn’t. I was…” Maura refrains from saying eager or begging for it and settles on “…a willing participant.”
“A willing participant?” Jane repeats, incredulously.
“You know what I mean. What happened between us was entirely mutual, regardless of whether I was emotionally compromised or not. Besides, studies have shown that excessive alcohol consumption tends to increase levels of testosterone--”
“--Don’t. Do not turn this into one of your little science projects, Maura. Please.” Jane gestures wildly with her hands. “I mean, we slept together.”
Maura chews on her bottom lip as the words sink in. “Yes, we did.”
Jane runs her fingers through her thick mane of hair and exhales. The sound of it pierces the silence. “God, I feel like my head’s on the inside of a blender. I need coffee. Can’t you prescribe some kind of doctorly hangover remedy or something?”
“Actually, coffee is a diuretic--”
“Maura, please…”
“Sorry,” Maura sighs. “There’s some Aspirin in the bathroom for your headache.”
Jane stumbles out of bed. Her bare feet are loud and cold against the tiled floors in the master bathroom. She grabs the pills and swallows them down with a handful of faucet water.
Maura politely averts her uneasy gaze from underneath Jane’s boy shorts where there’s a clear view of a bruise she kissed into place between Jane’s legs the night before. She shifts to unravel her bottom half from the sheets and raises up on her haunches.
She’s strikingly beautiful like this, with her hair wild and her body exposed. She’s a vision of untamed perfection and she doesn’t even know it. Her stomach growls noisily as she arches her back into a stretch.
“Hungry?” Jane murmurs as she pulls Maura into her body. The sheet between them slips away and she has to try desperately not to gape at the dusky nipples peeking out from beneath the covers or the hickey on Maura’s collarbone or the unsteady pace of her own racing heart. She carefully draws back to tuck a stray lock of hair behind Maura’s ear. “I guess the real question is, are you okay with this?”
The smaller woman’s cheeks dimple as she collapses backwards into a sea of pillows. “I’m more than okay with this,” she giggles. Her glee dies a sudden death. “Are you?” she asks. “I can touch you, if you want. I wanted to last night but you wouldn’t let me.”
“I told you, it’s fine. I still…” Jane swallows, “Y’know-- finished.”
Maura’s forehead crumples. “You don’t want me to make love to you?” she asks hesitantly.
“No!” Jane squeaks. “I mean… That’s not-- Of course I do, Maura. Later, okay? Last night was about you.”
“It’s not ‘last night’ anymore,” Maura points out.
Jane’s cheeks are scarlet. She turns over onto her side to face away from Maura.
“Jane? What is it?”
“I um…” Jane chokes on the first words out of her mouth, clears her throat, and starts all over again. “I haven’t let anyone touch me since Hoyt kidnapped me.”
Maura’s heart skips a full beat. “Did he--?” she chokes back a well of emotion. “Did he do something to you, Jane?”
“No!” Jane yelps. “I mean, nothing like that… Geez, Maura-- That’s not what I meant. It’s a control thing. I just don’t want to feel…”
“Helpless?”
Jane turns back over to face Maura. “Yeah. Helpless.”
The moment is awkward even if it isn’t completely threatening. Jane isn’t used to being so vulnerable, but she’s tired and hungover and sleepiness overwhelms her compulsion to run away.
When she wakes up again, Maura is nowhere to be found.
V.
With a belly full of gnocchi and head free of thoughts, Jane Rizzoli is at peace. Here, in her childhood bedroom on the twin-sized bed she outgrew years ago, Jane is free to teeter on the brink of restful, uninterrupted sleep--
“Jaaanie,” Angela sing-songs. She bursts into the room and plops down on the edge of the bed. “How are you feeling?”
“Not great,” Jane grumbles.
“Why, what’s wrong?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe it’s the gunshot wound in my gut.”
Angela rolls her eyes. “You know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Is there anything you wanna talk about?”
“Nope. Nothing.” Jane eyes her mother suspiciously. “What are you getting at, Ma?”
“There are just some things I thought you might wanna talk about.”
“What kind of things?”
“Things!” Angela hesitates, “Things like… Maura.”
Jane’s face hardens. “I don’t want to talk about her,” she says without much room for argument.
“I know how you feel about her. I know about your… feelings.”
Jane’s eyes grow impossibly wide. “My what?”
“Janie, it’s okay. I just wish you would’ve told me before.”
“Told you what?”
“I wouldn’t have set you up with Charlie Russo or Paul Benedetti if I’d known about you and Maura.”
“Maura has nothing to do with me and those douchebags.”
Angela makes a face. “Eleanor Grant told me that you broke her little Joey’s heart.”
“He’ll get over it,” Jane snorts.
“Janie…”
“Drop it, Ma. Please.”
“What, you think I don’t see what’s right in front of my face with you and Maura? You think you can’t talk to your mother about these things?”
“What things, Ma?” Jane frantically demands. “We aren’t-- I’m not--”
“You think I would mind if you were like that? Your cousin Ray brings his lover to Christmas dinner every year-- Have I ever said anything about it?”
“His Lover? Really? I can’t-- Maura and I are not lovers, Ma! Geez, what’s wrong with you?”
Angela scrunches her brow up in concern. “All I’m saying is that it’s okay with the family. She’s a good girl. And she was so sad when you were in the hospital. She was there every day-- Your father had to force her to go home.”
“Yeah?” Jane bellows. “Well, she’s gone now.”
Angela leans in close as her voice lowers into a harsh whisper. “You have no idea what she went through, do you? You should’ve seen that poor girl-- mascara running down her face that day-- covered in your blood! And why? Because you shot yourself. Real smart, Janie.”
“Ma…” Jane warns.
“Fine,” Angela sighs. “But me and Daddy have come to love Maura. Like a daughter. And we-- Sometimes we wonder what you love her like.”
Jane shuts her eyes tight and lets out a deep breath. “How am I supposed to respond to that?”
Angela turns towards the door. “I don’t know. But you better figure it out because she’s in the living room.”
“What?”
“What was I supposed to do? Turn her away?”
“Yes!” Jane yells. “That’s exactly what you were supposed to do!” She storms downstairs and freezes when she sees Maura on the couch, hunched over, with her head in her hands. She takes a tentative step forward. “Hey.”
Maura looks up so that Jane can see the agony in her eyes. “Hi.”
“Is everything all right down there?” Angela hollers from upstairs.
“Everything’s fine, Ma!” Jane shouts. She relaxes a little when she hears her parents’ bedroom door close. “I tried to call you,” she rasps.
“I know,” Maura whispers.
Jane’s rage withers at the sight of Maura’s tightly drawn face. “Are you crying?”
Maura sniffles even as she shakes her head from side to side.
“Shit.” Jane’s stomach wrenches. “Don’t cry, Maur. Please.” She steps forward and wraps her arms around the smaller woman. “C’mon, I’ll take you home.”
VI.
“This is too much,” Jane thinks to herself as Maura’s lips hover dangerously low on her hips. She arches and moans and tries desperately hard not to grab a handful of dirty blonde hair. “Stop!” she squeaks.
Maura’s head snaps up. “Did I do something wrong?”
“N-Nuh,” Jane swallows and pants. “No, I just… It’s been awhile.” Her skin is hot and red and she fights the urge to cover herself up.
Maura’s forehead crumples. “I told you I’d wait for you.”
“I don’t want to wait,” Jane groans. Her face is drawn tight like she’s in agony as she throbs between her legs.
“Then… what is it?” Maura demands.
Jane chews her lip and opens her eyes to stare up at the ceiling. “I’m… It’s embarrassing.” She swallows again. “I’m already… close.”
“Oh.” Maura smiles then, and gently cups Jane’s sex with one hand. “That’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”
“Fuck! Maur…”
“You’re so wet,” Maura breathes right before she spreads her to take her first taste.
Jane nearly comes on the spot. “Maura,” she moans.
Maura’s mouth is relentless as she slips two fingers inside. The friction of it is incredible. “God,” she hisses. “You feel so good, Jane.”
"Maura!" Jane’s body writhes and twists. “I’m gonna-- I’m--” She does.
Maura clings to her and keeps her anchored to the bed as she curls her fingers through the ride of it. The only sound that follows is the noise of their heavy breathing tangling in the room.
“Did I do it right?” Maura asks after awhile. She hesitates before crawling back up Jane’s trembling body.
“Yeah, Maur. You did it right. C’mere.” Jane snorts out a laugh as she pulls Maura in and tastes herself on her lips. "God, I love you."
"I love you, too."
VI.
Maura wanders through the untouched Rizzoli sitting room, the gallery of photographs tells stories of memories shared. She smiles at the awkward school portraits and the forced smiles on Jane and Frankie and Tommy’s faces.
“You disappeared,” Jane rasps from the doorway.
Maura jolts at the sound of her voice. “Who won the basketball game?” she asks.
Jane rolls her eyes as she swaggers towards her girlfriend. “Frankie and Enzo think they won, but they’re delusional.” She holds her hand out for Maura to take. “C’mon, Ma made you zepoli. She’s going to have an aneurism if you don’t come eat it.”
Just as they’re about to leave the room, Maura catches a glimpse of a picture of her and Jane from the night of the marathon. She lets go of Jane’s hand and picks up the frame.
“Aw, Geez. I told Pop not to put that up,” Jane groans. “Look at us!”
Maura smiles. They do look a bit sweaty and fatigued, but happy nonetheless. “Frank put this in here?” she asks.
“Yeah.” Jane shrugs her shoulders. “C’mon.”
Maura obliges and follows Jane into the kitchen, where she’s greeted by a roomful of Rizzolis. She may not be a religious person but, in this moment, she feels like God or the Universe or the Powers that be have given her everything she needs.
For once, she can say that she has roots.