DISCLAIMER: Rizzoli & Isles and its characters are the property of Tess Gerritsen, Janet Tamaro and TNT television network.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: More stream of consciousness, I suppose. References Season One.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
FEEDBACK: To carrieanneq[at]mail.com
I Want To Be Rich
Jane Rizzoli had gone through most of her life feeling awkward. She was too tall for her age too early, it seemed. While her mother constantly referred to this as her "gawky stage," in all honesty it had gone on longer than the term implied. She hadn't truly stopped feeling ungainly and clumsy until she had become a cop. And a damn good one.
The thing was, even in all of her lurching glory, she had never felt ashamed of who she was. She had merely wished to be tiny or petite ... graceful and elegant ... cute. Now the term made her cringe. She never wanted to be someone other than herself, just a much more lithe and co-ordinated version of herself.
She'd been proud of her family, her heritage. Fiercely loyal to anyone who'd been part of her circle. She'd had a happy childhood while never being sheltered from the struggle of those around her. She'd grown up loved and tough and capable, and she'd always been grateful for it.
All of the sudden she felt herself wishing it away. And it infuriated her.
All along she and her friends had felt superior to the girls of privilege they encountered. Had made fun of them and their Diane Chambers-like stiffness, haughty bearing, and patterns of speech. They had felt so relieved not to have to conform to those standards, had told themselves that street smarts outweighed high-tone manners any day. Had laughed as they thought of those same girls participating in neighborhood pick up games or rolling around in the yard with their brothers.
Never in a million years would she have seen herself envying them. Yet here she was ... taking stock of her position and finding it lacking. Dammit.
And Maura. She'd never thought of Maura as "one of them." A bitter voice inside of her wondered why the hell she hadn't. All of the indicators were there. The pedigree, the affluence, the education ... But Maura had managed to make her completely comfortable -- had made her feel that their differences were complimentary instead of contradictory. She may have teased and raised her eyebrows about Jane's habits and personality, but she'd never seemed to be really judging. Had she?
Jane rubbed her face with her hands again and leaned her head back against the seat. She'd been driving around aimlessly, avoiding her apartment, the precinct, The Dirty Robber ... anything that reminded her of her current situation ... or where she might run into Maura. When she realized that she was too distracted by her thoughts and her mood, she'd parked and sat. And tormented herself with her own cross examination.
She'd been totally gobsmacked when Maura had sided with the well-to-do suspects in this case. Had coolly and smoothly brushed off Jane and her purpose for being there. Even though Jane felt like she'd been slapped in the face, she'd hoped it had been a misunderstanding ... that it hadn't been clear why she had needed to do what had to be done. But then clarifying had made it worse.
Maura had defended those people based on what? Her shared history with them? Jane could almost understand that, but shook it off when she countered with the much more recent connection she and Maura had shared. What hurt the most -- and God did it hurt -- was that Jane was sure Maura really did know her -- better than anyone else ever had..
And then Maura had questioned how she did her job. The one thing she was completely and utterly sure of. The one area that essentially defined her.. If Maura had issues with that, then she had issues with who Jane was -- not just how she went about her business. She absolutely HATED the feeling she'd gotten in the pit of her stomach when she'd realized that she didn't know the person standing across the autopsy table from her at all.
Jane liked to think of herself as cynical and jaded. It came with the territory. But in reality she was an open book to those she let get close. Vulnerable and trusting, and as much as it gnawed at her ... soft. She had no defense in place for the gut punch that was thrown today. She felt like a damn fool.
Of course Maura belonged elsewhere. She was better than the crap that surrounded her every day. Jane had probably always known that, deep down. But she hadn't wanted it to be so. It only took one step into the world that Maura had come from for her illusions of equality to be shattered. Jesus it had stung to see Maura blend so effortlessly into it all again. At that moment, Jane had felt her slipping away. Had felt herself being left behind.
She laughed harshly when she admitted she'd seen herself with Maura in another role. One she hesitated to ever examine or define, but that she allowed herself to drift into occasionally. There were times when glimpses of it seemed real, almost inevitable. Times when she felt that Maura was on the same wavelength. That the two of them had something beyond their established relationship. It made her hands itch to know how ridiculous that possibility seemed now.
Next to Garret and the others, Jane might as well have been raised by wolves. She felt a stab of guilt that this whole train of thought was disrespecting her parents and cursed the world and everything in it. It confused her to no end that she was in essence saying that she'd give up her whole life for admittance into a club she'd always detested and rejected -- all in order to be with one person. To have that person accept her.
She felt the tears slide down the sides of her face but didn't move to intercept them. She just wanted things to go back to the way they were. Liar. She wanted things to be like she had imagined them. To not feel like she was running to catch up with the person she loved, only to find a stranger.
Fuck it. She was going to have to pull herself together, or Korsak and Frost would sound the alarm. She couldn't avoid Maura forever. This wasn't the first time she'd had her feelings crushed. She could take it. She was a Rizzoli. Swiping at her eyes and sniffling slightly, she smiled. Damn proud of it, too. Screw the socialites.
Maybe she'd get to arrest one of them.
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