Post-Its

Chapter 5 - Regrets

Chapter 5 - Regrets

"Maura!" Hearing her name, she looked up from where her gaze had been positioned, choking back half a sob, half a laugh. It was so typically Angela to come barrelling in at full force whenever one of her kids got hurt. Reaching the blonde, the older woman engulfed her in a bruising hug.

"I came as soon as you called. What's happening? Has there been any news?" Maura shook her head despondently.

"I haven't heard anything for a while now."

"What about Barry and Vince? Are they ok? Do they know?"

"They're fine. They went outside for a bit of a breather," she said, veering as close to the truth as she could. "Hospital's aren't exactly the most comfortable of places," she murmured, rubbing her hands.

"Oh my god, are you hurt?" Angela asked, noticing for the first time, the blood that stained her hands and dress.

Maura looked down as if in a trance. "No. No, it's not mine."

Angela blanched as the implication as to exactly whose it was sunk in. There would be plenty of time to panic later. Maura was family, no matter what had gone on in the past 72 hours. Putting aside her fear for her eldest child, she took charge.

"Come on. Let's get you cleaned up," she said, pulling Maura up and leading her to the bathroom. Gently, she took Maura's hands in hers, washing away the blood. Maura just stood there watching the water as it swirled red around the sink. Her gaze drifted to Angela who refused to look into her eyes.

"You know, don't you?" she said.

"Just look at this dress," she said, ignoring Maura's words, knowing exactly what it was she was referring to. "That'll never come out."

"Angela..."

Angela sighed, meeting her gaze for the the first time since they'd entered the bathroom. The topic had to be broached sometime. "I know," she said, making reference to the fight that had taken place between the two less than 12 hours before...


"You're back." The sentence uttered from the Detective's lips wasn't so much a question as it was a statement. Maura flicked through the book she held in her hands.

"Did you ever return my book soothing paint choices for the home?"

"It's on the shelf at home," she replied. She wasn't about to let up. "So you're back."

"That's odd cos I can't seem to find it," the ME said, steadfastly feigning ignorance. Jane nearly threw up her hands in frustration. So this was how she wanted to play it.

"Did you ever return my guns of the world digest?"

"I always return things i borrow," she said pointedly.

"You sure?"

"Of course i'm sure. Maybe you lost it? You do lose things," she looked over towards her desk and chair sighing in vexation. "Has Dr. Pike been sitting in my chair?" She moved towards it swiveling it round to face her as she studied it intently.

"Could be. Why? Is it broken? You wanna find out if he's been sleeping in your bed too?" Maura eyes narrowed bordering on barely controlled anger and fury as Jane called for Pike. Dutifully, he came trotting.

"Were you looking for me?"

"What about your food?" she taunted. "Dr. Pike, have you been eating Maura's porridge?"

"Of course not!"

"I'm glad that you think you're so funny," Maura said, sarcasm shining through.

"It's better to be funny than poindexter and know-it-all."

"Well, I'd rather be poindexter and know-it-all than hoi palloi," she retorted. Pike raised his eyebrows, thoroughly enjoying the argument taking place between the two women. This was better than a tennis match between Nadal and Djokovic.

"Good one, Maura..." Damn Maura and her google brain.

"You don't even know what it means."

"It means common. Literal translation is the great unwashed," Pike said, feeling the need to add his two cents to the conversation at hand.

Jane rolled her eyes. "Real classy, Maur," she drawled, "hide your insults in Latin."

"It's Greek actually," she said, triumphant that she finally had the upperhand.

This time Jane did throw up her hands. "Oh, the geek that knows Greek!" she declared. Maura glared. "Do you realise how ridiculous you sound?! People laugh at you behind your back!"

"Really? Cos they call you a bitch behind yours!"

"Well, at least when my father gets pissed off, he doesn't stab people with an ice pick!" she shouted, her wrath at full force now.

"Well, at least my father didn't move to florida to sleep with some floosie he met at a pizza parlour!" she shot back.

"Maura..."

"Or was it a massage parlour?" she asked cattily. Her hand shot to her mouth as her words finally caught up with her, hazel eyes raking over Jane's hurt ones. She hadn't meant that. This wasn't who she was and she never...never was the type to intentionally cause hurt, especially towards the woman she loved. She knew how Jane felt about her father. She looked up to him: the man who'd taught her how to throw a curveball, was there to cheer her on during her hockey and little league matches, took her on all his jobs teaching her the finer aspects of his job, treating her as his equal, who'd been there throughout her childhood. He hadn't been a perfect man by any means but he had been the perfect father. What she'd said...it was just low.

Maura watched as the fire seemed to drain out of Jane completely and she was faced with something she never thought she'd see; a broken Jane Rizzoli.

She'd done that.

Momentarily caught off guard by the image before her, she heard her say, "why don't you say what this is really about? You...and you're sudden need for a father."

"I don't need a father. I have one," she hissed, aware that Pike was still standing in the doorway.

"Exactly," Jane said, her gaze unfaltering, "You have one. Only somewhere along the way, you seem to have forgotten that. You think knowing about Paddy Doyle, what he's about, who he is, is going to help you find yourself?!"

The incredulous tone in Jane's voice fired Maura up all over again as the words hit close to home. How did Jane know? Internally she scoffed. Who was she kidding? Jane always knew. It was part of what made her such a good Detective. That and the unending amount of compassion she had but pretended to hide. Maura opened her mouth to respond but she was abruptly cut off by the hand Jane held up.

"No. No, you are going to listen to me and listen carefully," she said, enunciating her words, her tone brooking no argument, "You are who you are because of how you were raised and brought up and that honor, lies solely with Richard and Constance Isles, regardless of how you're childhood was." The hand swiftly cut off her retort again. "You are beautiful and kind and classy and compassionate, and you have a HUGE heart, Maura Isles. And that," she said, pointing in Maura's direction, "that is something Doyle isn't."

She took a deep breath before going on, her next words difficult even for her. "After Hoyt, I was lost. I used to think he'd taken something from me, something deep inside. But then I met you. And you made me realise there was nothing broken about me, that the piece I thought was missing was still there and on some level, I thought I did the same for you, but I guess I was wrong." Her shoulders slumped in defeat. "What you're looking for...it's not logical...it can't be found with science or theories or hypotheses. It can only be found within here," she said, placing a hand over Maura's heart. "But it's obviously something I can't help with."

The resignation in her tone made the ME ache. She wanted to put her arms around Jane and hold her, tell her everything would be okay, that it would somehow fall into place. She went to move closer but was stopped by the look in her eyes; the brunette wasn't finished. "But that's something I can't do anything about," she whispered, "this is something you're gonna have to figure out on your own and I'll be right here when you do, but you should know,"she said, her next words the hardest she'd ever had to say, "I won't wait forever."

She stepped back letting her hand drop before making her way out of the office.

When Maura had let herself in that night, she'd half expected to find Jane sitting on the couch with a beer in hand not focusing on anything in particular. Jane's words had hit her hard that day as she realised Jane had been right. Instead, she came home to an dark, empty house.

She checked their bedroom for the Detective but it hadn't even been slept in, in the days preceding. She went down to the kitchen getting out a snack for Bass and a glass of wine for herself before heading into the living room. She went to turn on the tv but was stopped by a small green post-it stuck on her DC player. Play me, it said. She hit the button hearing the melodic sounds of Christina Perri's, Human, fill the room and for the first time since her life began spiraling out of control, she let herself cry.


"I was horrible towards her."

Angela shrugged non-committally. "The comment about her father was somewhat uncalled for," she agreed.

"I didn't mean..."

"I know, Maura. I know," she said, placing a hand over her future daughter-in-law's small one. And for the moment, that was enough.



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