Six days later you got shot, shot yourself, whatever
A/N: Story assumes relationship. Takes place after season one finale. TWO PARTS. Written some time ago, will post second part tomorrow. Possibly considering continuing it after that...Hm? Oh, and Byron. Forget about him which I'm sure we all already have. Rating is for language. Enjoy :)
It's been seven weeks. Seven weeks since you came back to life which, is a little awkward. It's especially awkward being that nobody has mentioned to your face the part about you having been dead. And you know for a fact that Maura was in that ambulance with you. Plus you can read and you can most definitely read your own medical file, which clearly points out that you, Jane Rizzoli, were dead for exactly three minutes.
The chart you snagged once you could sorta move about and your normal stealthy self had kicked back in strung together the details you had lost. You remember hits and misses after deciding that shoving a gun in your stomach was the only way out. Not that you regret it, you don't. You knew you had a better shot of surviving if you could place the bullet to your choosing.
People assume you did it for everyone else. That you did it so that Frankie could get help. You did it so that Frost and Korsak didn't have to watch the snipper attempt to take out Marino and possibly take you out with him. You did it so that a stray bullet didn't accidentally kill Maura. Or your favorite, you did it for justice.
And maybe these are all true. Maybe. You're not so sure.
You haven't told anyone but really, really you just did it for yourself. You refuse to be a victim again. You refuse to live in fear while another person hunts you down. You won't do it. You will not live your life waiting for someone else to come along and scar another part of your body. You'd rather shoot yourself first. Clearly.
But this is the part you do remember. Struggle. Placement. And then that sound. The pain took its time. But the crack of that shot, it was so final. Deadening. Like your life was vocalizing its loss. Then there was a lot of noise that probably should have been a whole lot louder than it was. You remember Maura's face swimming in and out of your vision, her voice going in and out with it. You remember wondering what the big deal was and why the paramedic kept saying that there was so much blood.
And you remember wanting to correct everyone. You tried, several times to tell them that they had it wrong or at least they were leaving out a really big part. It seemed every medical personnel from the sidewalk to the hospital seemed to be really into mentioning that you shot yourself. Which you did but come on! They were saying it then like maybe you had lost your shit and already you were dreading having to explain that one since it might have been just a little bit stupid.
But right about at that point is where your memory ends ends and your chart picks up.
Cardiac arrest upon entering the emergency room. You were defibrillated quite a few times in which your chart mocks your health with no improvement. Then apparently your heart gave out all together. That's the dead part. Three minutes. And nobody talks about it and if you know Maura she was either there to see it or at least stole your file long before you did. You'd like to brag a little that you died for a bit and yet your brain seems to have come back just fine. That's impressive.
Yet you can see your mother looking at you after a comment such as that like really, really it came back just fine? Frankie would probably roll his eyes and change the subject. Vince has seen you emotionally dead so maybe mentioning to him you were dead dead, not so helpful. Frost wouldn't get it or he'd pretend he did just to please you and so really that leaves only Maura. She'll probably have some science crap that explains how you are not Wonder Woman but you still might be able to get a little smile out of her, possibly an admission on the slight cool factor.
But Maura has been weird lately. Weirder than normal Maura weird. She went back to work only two weeks ago, which you find odd. You got shot. Shot yourself, whatever. Why Maura took time off makes no sense. Sure maybe when you were in critical following your surgery or while they were all waiting for you to pull your shit together and start breathing on your own. Taking off time then, that makes best friend and current girlfriend sense. But that only adds up to about a week, give or take a few days. Fine, give a few days. Nine days says your helpful chart.
You shift your body on your couch wincing and cursing slightly at the pain. Your hand grabs at your cell from between the cushions and you speed dial your girlfriend. You grumble as you settle back down, dropping your open phone onto your chest so that you don't have to hold it to your ear, waiting for her to pick up.
One ring and then Maura's voice come hurling at you through the speakerphone.
"Are you okay? What's wrong?"
"You have to stop answering like that Maur." You roll your eyes even though she can't see you. You hear her hold her breath for a beat before she responds, her voice calculated.
"Of course, Jane. How are you?"
"Just peachy. And bored out of my mind. Especially bored since I have roughly eight hundred and forty hours tell I can even try to petition the surgeon into clearing me for work."
"Hm." Maura's voice is so obvious. You roll your eyes again for good measure.
"Nothing. I'm glad to hear you've been keeping with your walking and stretching exercises. Obviously it's having secondary effects."
You don't feel like fighting Maura in her clearly not saying what she wants to say so you go for the next best thing. "What?"
"Studies have shown that stretching or even something as simple as wiggling your toes activates nerves that stimulate your brain and internal organs. Walking has shown to improve cognitive abilities which you proved with your multiplication calculations, Jane."
"Maura!" You wince again as you bark into the phone.
"What? I chose my words very carefully this time. I said, wiggling your toes, which I thought would be most clear. I could have been more accurate and said—"
You close your eyes for a brief second while she goes off about what the study actually said, using a whole bunch of words that make you tired. Finally she takes a breath on the other line after she makes the connection yet again between your math skills and your physical blah blah blah so you slip in. Not that cutting Maura off has ever been something you've shied about from.
"Maura, I used a calculator."
Pause. Beat. You can practically see her trying to understand that, her hand probably poised over a dead body, scalpel in hand.
"Well, having to get up and find a calculator took some exertion I'm sure."
You laugh to yourself, deciding not to tell her that you used your phone and that you haven't gotten off the couch since you dumped yourself there early this morning.
"So what are you doing?" You ask because Maura will immediately jump into talk about whatever body is lying on her table and you need the distraction.
Her voice goes harder to hear and you bet she's stepped away slightly to peer in some microscope thing. "I'm not talking to you about work Jane. You have to focus on getting better."
"Maura! Come on!" You slam your body back to its flat position after lurching up in frustration and doubling over in pain.
"I'm going to hang up the phone if you keep doing that."
"Doing what? Keep asking you about work?"
"Doing anything that causes you too much pain Jane. I can hear the unevenness of your breathing, a typical sign of nociception."
"Excuse me?" You're too tired and maybe a tad cranky to even attempt to pronounce her dumb words.
"Nociception. The neural processes of encoding and processing noxious stimuli." She ends and you stay silent, knowing you've trained her to decode. She sighs and then does just that. "Pain, Jane."
Since you aren't allowed to chuck your phone across the room since your breathing might give you away, you swallow your attitude. "Fine. Want to come over when you're done today?"
"Sure. Does six o'clock work for you?"
"Hm, I'm not sure. I might be busy." Your voice is sarcastic which you forget Maura won't pick up on, especially over the phone and without your facial blah blah to give her a hint. "I have to activate my nerves so I stimulate my brain around six."
"Seven then?" Maura never lets you down. It's pretty endearing.
"Six is fine Maur—"
And with that you give her your order for Chinese take-out, tell her to just let herself in with her key and hang up to take a nap.
You wake up to find a blanket neatly tucked around you and your coffee table cleared. You blink in confusion as your eyes sweep the carpet where you swear you had flung the wrappers of some tacos you forced Frost to bring you last night. You struggle to sit up as you catch the time.
"Maura?" You clear your throat and try again right as she comes into the room.
"How was your nap?" She asks it as she folds herself neatly onto the couch at your feet.
"You cleaned?" You eye the room.
"Uh no. It was clean when I got here. Didn't you clean?" She takes a sip of her wine, stem perched between her fingers. You motion for her glass but she pulls back giving your bottle of Vicodin a pointed stare. You nod your head pretending to misunderstand her and grab the bottle to shake out your dose.
You hold the pill in your hand before motioning again for her wine glass.
Maura huffs at you as she hands it over. "That's not what I meant. I meant you shouldn't drink alcohol when you're on prescription pain killers."
You pop the pill in your mouth and take a swallow of her wine. "I know." You hand it back to her as you flash a smile and sit fully upright, smile turning into wince. "And no, I didn't clean."
"So you didn't go to the grocery store because your refrigerator is fully stocked which is was not this morning when I left for work."
"How would I have gone to the grocery store Maur? I can barely move. My mother must have stopped by." You scrunch your face at that; clearly your detective alertness skills are fading fast.
"How's your incision?" Maura sets her glass down and starts to fold the blanket so she can place it on the back of the couch.
"It's fine." You protect yourself from what you know is coming.
"Well if it's fine than let me see it." Maura places her fists on her hips as she stands and stares down at you.
You grumble a bit but then raise your t-shirt to expose your bandages. Maura drops one knee onto the couch as she peers at your torso, her cool hands finding purchase on your skin. You wince out of habit of anyone getting close to your bullet hole.
"Does that hurt?" She presses lightly on your ribs, her hands not close enough to the wound to bring pain.
"No. Your hands are just cold."
"Oh of course. I forget that a live body can detect changes in temperature." She trails her fingers up to your bandage and peels back the edge while continuing to talk.
"When's the last time you changed your dressing?"
You mumble out a reply in which she picks her head up and looks at your face, passively waiting for you to repeat yourself.
"I don't know, two days ago when I took a shower."
She knows you're lying since she keeps an eagle eye on your incision and your supply of bandages. She leaves to go grab the pile of supplies and what not off your counter. She comes back and positions herself over you again as she starts to remove the bandage wrapped around your torso. When she gets to the actual bandage, she peels the tape off which stings your skin a little.
"Would you like me to dress it so that you can shower now?" She doesn't make eye contact as she finishes removing it so that your incision is visible. You crane your neck down so you can see its badass-ness. Except your surgeon did a hell of a job even if he is an ass and the scar already is looking better, pain aside.
Maura scoots closer so she can see the incision more closely and then asks you to turn so she can see the exit wound also. In your shift your face somehow ends up right in front of Maura's chest. And in typical Maura fashion her pretty blue top gapes open at this angle giving you a clear shot of her lacy clad breasts.
You tear your eyes away to see her looking at you.
She raises an eyebrow just slightly that you probably wouldn't see if she wasn't so damn close.
"I asked if you'd like to take a shower." You're grateful she doesn't comment on your pointed stare, the two of you having slept together exactly two times, the day before the shooting which was only six days into the relationship. Not getting to go down on Maura is definitely the worse part about shooting oneself.
"Ah, no. I'm good."
Finally she leans back and crosses her arms, staying silent. She then eyes your hair, which you are certain is greasy even if you did try to hide it by pulling it into a ponytail.
Maura nods her head and immediately starts to wrap your abdomen in water-proof bandages. You jump again as her fingers seal your incision in. She then takes the cellophane and asks you to stand so she can wrap your ribs up. You hold your t-shit so she has room to work, trying to still cover your chest as she winds plastic wrap around you before announcing that you're good. You start to head towards your shower when her voice stops you.
"Where are you going Jane?"
You turn to face her. "Ah to the shower?" You jerk your thumb over your shoulder towards your bathroom.
"But you're going to sponge like you're suppose to. No immersion." She says it like obviously that is what you will be doing.
"No." You say it slowly because girl is confusing you. "I'm taking a shower. You said shower Maura."
"I meant sponge." She nods her head and smiles at you. You frown back.
"How am I suppose to wash my hair then?"
She pauses at that, her face now also confused. "Well how have you been doing it before now? After the first week home you told me you didn't need my help anymore."
You raise your eyebrows at her, pretending you didn't just get busted. "Ah, dry shampoo." You say it just to watch her eyes bug out which they do. You laugh. "Kidding, I can do it myself. I'm good."
"Jane." Maura says it like a warning.
You sigh, damn yourself for slipping. "Ma has been helping me." You say it quickly, praying for some reason she won't hear it and then you wait.
When Maura doesn't say anything, you wait a little more, your gaze on the floor.
"Oh." She says it really softly and full of hurt. You snap your head up.
"No, no. Not like that. I liked it when you did it better. I just-" You try to figure out the best way to say this without embarrassing yourself.
Maura is still taking it the wrong way. "You don't need to explain Jane. I understand. A mother's comfort is something that can not be replaced."
"What? No!" You wave your hands at her, physically pushing that reasoning out of the way. "Maura, I was having my mother do it since when you were, you know, sponging me, it kinda left me- you know." You look at her, desperate for her to get it and then drop it.
Of course that doesn't happen. She looks at you with her widely innocent eyes, head tilted. "Left you what?"
You purse your lips and then kinda talk out of the side of your mouth like the two of you are in public. "You know, turned on."
And finally the light bulb goes off as her eyes lift and her mouth parts. She's just about to smirk or smile or something but you narrow your eyes at her and tell her to shut it.
With that you start to walk back to your bedroom and you can hear her following you, at least you haven't lost all your stealthy skills.
"No, it's can do it. I'll just stand here in case you need anything." She leans herself against your doorframe as you cross to your dresser to locate a clean sports bra, shirt, underwear and sweat pants. You go to close your drawers, which are made of heavy wood and the exertion of closing them makes you grit your teeth. You glance up at her through a stray greasy lock. She is exactly where you left her with exactly the same face on.
"Fine. I need help." You say it as you grab your stuff and stalk to the best of your abilities towards the bathroom. Maura follows but then asks you is she can borrow some of your clothes to change into so she doesn't get her dress wet. Maura has a ton of clothes here at the moment, but you rather not figure out why she wants yours and so you wave your hand over your shoulder to tell her to go ahead.
When you get to the bathroom you are a little out of breath as you start to undo the knot of your current sweatpants. "No making comments about how bad I smell okay." You shout it towards the bedroom.
Maura giggles as she appears in front of you wearing a tank top and a pair of loose running shorts that she has rolled at the waist.
"Jane, I've been sleeping in your bed with you since you got shot."
At least she's kind enough to not actually say the words, you do smell, to your face. She grabs the plastic container your mother has been using to fill with soapy water. She fills it and adds some nice soap that you've never seen before as you struggle out of your pants.
"Why don't you sit on the edge of the tub." Maura says it kindly as so not insult your out of breath-ness.
"Grah." You refuse to be completely incompetent by continuing to stand as you struggle to get your t-shirt off which only sends searing pain down your side. "Ow!"
Maura's face floods pity at your pain but decides to comment instead on your first exclamation. "Did you just growl at me? You tend to only do that when I go down on you."
"Maura! One rule! We have one rule. And the rule is no talking about it when I'm in no position to do anything about it."
She nods her head as if committing that tidbit to memory. "Right." Then she smirks as she watches you continue to wage war on your shirt.
Maura sets the bowl down and comes over to help. You let her pull the fabric off of you, biting your lip when you have to raise your arms. "I'm going to buy you some shirts that are inexpensive so that we can just cut them off of you." Maura says it as she folds your dirty t-shirt and sets it on top of the closed toilet lid.
You sit on the edge of the tub finally giving in when you almost sway too much and bitch-slap the tiled floor. You are just in your panties and sports bra but your Vicodin soaked brain is suddenly too heavy to attempt modesty. Maura redoes your ponytail so that it isn't in the way as her last comment finally marinates in your mind.
"Oh yeah, and how much are these shirts you're thinking of?"
Maura starts to tell you what a great sale some expensive brand you've never heard of is having when you start to laugh.
"What? What's so funny?" Maura stops her movements as you wince and laugh at the same time, the movement sending jolts of pain down your side.
Maura grabs her bowl of soapy water and dips the soft sponge loofah like thing into it as you get your laughter under enough control to attempt an explanation.
"Nothing, it's just ridiculous. Me. You. You having to wash me. It's a really awesome beginning to our relationship."
Maura giggles too as she starts on your arms, holding one limb out with one hand as she pushes the sponge over your skin and up to your shoulder. She takes her time, alternating between soapy lavender smelling stuff and clean warm water. Maura moves to stand behind you, her bare feet in your tub and you lean back to settle yourself against her legs.
Maybe it's the lavender. Maybe it's the fact that it feels good to be clean. Maybe it's the fact that Maura hums to herself as she runs the loofah over your stomach. Maybe it's the fact that you've been alone all day and for the first time you aren't bored. It might possibly be the fact that your tank top and running shorts have never looked so good slung over Maura's body. Or maybe and this is the big one, your painkillers are finally kicking in.
"You should probably take your bra off now."
Your head snaps up at that. "What? No. I'm not having you wash my boobs Maura."
"Perspiration that occurs naturally under the breasts can cause yeast infections if ignored."
"Excuse me!" You pull away from her and look over your shoulder, your good arm gripping one boob in protection.
"It's perfectly normal Jane." Maura looks at you like she always looks at you but then you lean in closer to peer at her face where a spec of a smirk is hiding.
"Not funny Maura." You attempt to punch her stomach in retaliation but change your mind when your arm refuses to catch-up with your brain. "Besides my boobs aren't big enough to sweat." You say this because it's true.
"I'll be the judge."
And then there's that.
You should Maura her and change the subject. You two have already gone down this road. Maura gets too cautious and treats you like some featherless, vulnerable baby bird and you tend to grit through the pain because she feels so good until it's suddenly too much and you start crying.
It's not cute. And really there isn't any way around it. Anything Maura does sends your abs tightening and the fierce pain is never too far behind. And anything you do to her just makes you insanely wet and batty with rage since you can't do anything about it.
So you should change the subject in order to protect yourself. But right now you aren't that far gone, you aren't dying to finger yourself. Right now you are just dying to kiss her so you just continue to look and then you smirk and then you talk.
"I'll show you mine if you show me yours."
And then Maura does one of the things you love most. She tips her head back and laughs. This really carefree gutsy laugh. She doesn't do it often but when she does it's painfully contagious and screams comfort and ease.
And the two of you are right on the line. You know it. She knows it. You both know it won't end well but then Maura leans over you, the loofah abandoned in the soapy water, her hair already falling into your face. You smile as she gets closer. You wait for her to come to you, her eyes slipping from your eyes to your lips. And when she's almost there, she pauses, waiting for you to come the rest of the way.
But you just smile and make her do it. And she does.
Maura kisses are intense. They're thought out without feeling calculated. They're full of intent. There is never any just going about it as you try and find a rhythm or filling up space until it moves onto other things. Maura kisses you like she won't ever get the chance to kiss you again. She demands you do the same and you always hop to.
"You taste good." Maura says it right as she flicks the clasp of your sports bra. It's strapped onto you so it doesn't spring off but message has been sent.
Sent and delivered.
And you are about to just say screw it, maybe pop a few more pain killers and demand she lets you come in her mouth.
But then Maura's senses come back and she pulls away, apologizing profusely.
You growl again but tell her that no, it was your fault and just like that, spell is broken. At least for the moment. She runs the sponge over your back a few times before nodding her head. Maura disappears into the kitchen to grab a chair, which she places against the sink, sideways so the back isn't in anyone's way. You sit on it as she towels you off quickly. After she removes the band holding your hair back, you bend really slowly so that your hair falls forward and so that your side doesn't split into two from the pain.
Surprisingly it's not too bad.
Maura gets the temperature just right before running her hand along your bare back, low and along your spine to indicate that you should lean a little more. She wets your hair before squirting some of your shampoo into her palms and starting to work it through your locks.
"You should buy better products Jane. You have such lovely hair."
You snort at her back-handed compliment. "I like this one. It smells good and it's two dollars a bottle so I can use as much conditioner as I want."
"I guess I should just be happy that it isn't two in one." Maura grumbles as she massages your scalp. She moves closer behind you so that her front is pressed up to your bare back. Her fingers find purchase at the top of your neck, rubbing and scratching while you almost pass out from the goodness of it all.
After she rinses and lathers your hair up with cheap conditioner she shuts the facet off.
"Ah Maura. You have to rinse it out too."
"Give it a moment to sit Jane."
"Maybe that's how the fancy stuff works but here in my bathroom you just run your fingers through it, rinse and go."
Maura just laughs again, softly and you feel her breath against your neck. And then you feel her lips as she starts to kiss your shoulder, making their way across your back. But then suddenly Maura is no longer touching you.
You peer under one conditioned wet lock that is falling across your upside-down cheek to see where she is. Maura is sitting on your closed toilet, looking at you. Like really looking at you.
"Ah. Hi?" You say it because you're thinking maybe she's been talking and you just weren't listening, too caught up in her hands on your scalp or her breath on your neck.
"We need to talk Jane."
"Right now?" You motion with your good arm at your sink, your hair, her, you.
"Yes, right now. When you can't run away or fake sleep or turn the volume of the game up."
You look at her, hard. Girl is not messing around. She sits there, staring really intently at you before finally dropping her eyes and looking at her hands.
"Okay." You say it so that she has the go ahead to talk. You want to get this over with before your neck cramps the fuck out.
Maura stays silent.
"This is the part where you start talking Maur." You are very impressed with the logical sense you are making right now, Vicodin soaked brain be damned.
She finally tears her eyes away from her hands and meets your eyes.
"I'm worried about you."
You start to interrupt because you don't want to hear it from anyone, anymore. But Maura puts her hand out to stop you and Maura only does that when she's super serious, so you shut up. You look back down into the sink so your neck doesn't officially die on you.
"I think you should talk to someone. Actually I think we should talk to someone."
"What? Like a shrink?" You jerk your head up, sprays of conditioner catching the mirror, pain ripping through you. "Fuck!" You grip your abdomen as Maura immediately comes up to you and wraps her hands over yours, protecting your side. You breathe as the pain slowly fades, until it clears and you can think about what she said.
You take a shallow breath and force your voice to be as calm as it can be as you repeat yourself. "Like a shrink?"
Maura finally lets go of your body and sits back down. "Yes."
"Seriously?" You can't help but let a little of your normal tone snake in.
"Counseling can be very beneficial Jane."
Maura isn't Googling you right now which means one thing. She's too serious to even get lost in her normal detailed and science-y explanations.
"You want us to go to couples counseling?" You say it once more just to make sure you really do understand.
You pause, hoping she'll come to the obvious conclusion you've already come to without you having to say it. She doesn't so finally you talk.
"You want us to go to couples counseling even though we've only been dating for two months?"
You eye her as she responds.
"Yes, we've been dating for eight weeks. You got hurt seven weeks ago." Maura is just making statements. Statements that clearly you know. Sure, somewhere in there you died for a few moments. Sure, somewhere along the way, you shot yourself. But you're not stupid; you can do a timeline.
"Uh huh." You stall for time to try and figure out what her brain is doing because clearly it isn't doing what yours is doing. "And that means we need therapy?"
"Jane." Maura looks at you even more pointedly. Your wide eyes probably give away that you are now only more confused. So she decides to spell it out for you. "We started dating eight weeks ago."
She pauses and waits for confirmation from you. You give it to her. "Yes."
"And then seven weeks ago you got hurt."
She sighs. "So we were dating for all of six days when you decided to shoot yourself Jane!"
Oh right, that.
"Maur⎯" You start to talk but she cuts you off before you can even attempt at rambling your way out of this, attempt at maybe just trying to explain to her what you're feeling, were feeling, whatever.
"I know! You did it for Frankie!" Maura stands, her outburst rendering you silent for the moment. She comes up behind you and slaps the water on and pushes your head under the cold water. You flinch at the temperature but Maura doesn't move to change it. She's probably forgotten again that you are a live person. She scrubs at your head a little ferociously as she continues to ramble.
"I know all that Jane. Korsak told me how you screamed at them, telling everyone how Frankie was injured and inside. And it was brave! It is brave! But as you and Marino were out front, the morgue had already been invaded by SWAT through the back. Frankie was already on the way to the hospital, whether you shot yourself or not. And I know you, Jane! You know that's how protocol works. It was obvious that you were the last thing they had to use as leverage. The rest of their defenses were gone. And then you shot yourself! Six days after we started dating!"
Maura says her final piece just as you start to raise your head to correct her, declare you didn't know that Frankie was safe. She just tightens her grip on the back of your neck and forces your head further under the water. You squeeze your eyes shut, to avoid water flooding them. And then the water is snapped off and suddenly your head is engulfed in a towel. She rubs at your hair, drying the strands like they're stains on her favorite blouse. Then the feel of the towel disappears and you hear it being tossed onto the floor before her bare feet make slight sounds on the tiled floor in exit.
You pull your neck back slowly so that you are siting upright. You glance at the mirror briefly to rub a smear of conditioner off your cheek. That was a little intense. Even more odd than Maura's outburst is the discarded towel not hung up, you eye it hoping for answers. Finally you pull yourself up off the chair and go to find her. You are thinking it might not be such a good idea to mention to her your cool, I died, thing right now, ah ever.
She eyes your approach from her standing position in your kitchen, her forearms resting against the counter, making her body kinda jet out. She grabs the chinese take-out and plunges a fork into it and starts eating her vegetables.
You grab your own fork, piercing a piece of chicken. "Make the appointment. I'll go."
She opens her own mouth in disbelief, swallows as if to respond. You hold a finger up to silence her from across the counter.
You finish chewing your food before responding. "For the record. I did not shoot myself because I was freakin out over dating you." You loop some lo mein around your utensil.
She goes to interrupt again but you keep talking. "And I'm only going because clearly this all makes you a little bonkers." You hook your thumb over your shoulder to indicate her display in the bathroom.
You pause to look up at her, anger flashing across her features. Maybe calling your girlfriend bonkers, not such a good idea. This time the good doctor does succeed in trying to interrupt.
"Well add to the record that I feel hurt by your description of me when I'm dealing with a painful experience." You roll your eyes at Maura's words, therapy words.
"Fine." You say it like you're three years old, surprised you aren't stomping your foot in protest. Instead you swallow some more dinner.
"Fine." At least Maura matches you in tone. "Appointment is tomorrow morning at eleven." Maura stares at you, daring you to blink. You throw your hands up, not believing she went ahead and scheduled it without consulting you first. A few stay pieces of vegetable land on the counter.
Maura just continues. "Anything else you want to say?" She pushes off the counter and grabs a bottle of water from your fridge, draining part of its contents. She starts to pack the food back up, removing the containers from in front of you. You toss your fork down in defeat.
"No." You say it because you can't think of anything clever and in the small pause of speech, you've decided you are dreadfully tired. You turn on your heels and stalk back to your room but before you clear the doorway, you whip around once more and point at her from across the room.
"I am not paying for it!" You slam your bedroom door with as much force as your weak side can manage before staring at your body, still clad in your underwear and half-way detached sports bra, cellophane still clinging to your upper torso.
You grumble over the fact that Maura probably didn't take you at all seriously, dressed how you are. You grab your clean clothes out of the bathroom and before you can punch a wall in frustration because the pain of dressing yourself is gonna suck, Maura walks in.
She doesn't say anything and neither do you. Instead she strips off her own clothes, well your clothes on her body that are a little wet-ish from the sponge bath. You watch as she pulls out a pair of gray silk pajama bottoms and tosses her legs into them. She rids herself of her bra and tugs on one of the pale pink tank tops she sleeps in. Then she walks over to you and starts to remove your sports bra, replacing it with a loose t-shirt and unwinding your plastic wrapped bullet hole. She grabs the cloth bandages that go over the actual bandage and wraps your ribs up like a pro. Your girlfriend then hooks her thumbs into your panties before pulling your sweats up your legs, not even bothering to put you into clean undies.
You huff at that but she just leaves for your bathroom where you hear her brushing her teeth. You are about to crawl into bed when she reappears, electric toothbrush in her mouth as she slaps your own normal toothbrush, paste squeezed out on top, into your hand.
You roll your eyes as you start brushing, holding your side at the movement. After a minute you go into the bathroom, tapping your foot impatiently behind her when your approach to the sink is blocked by her body. She glares at you through the mirror before spitting her own mouthful out, rinsing and spitting again. Then, instead of moving to the side like she normally would do she flips the warm water on and before you know it girl is washing her face while you stand behind her with a mouthful of toothpaste.
You growl to the best of your abilities before turning around and heading towards your kitchen where you finally can spit. You snap the lights off in the kitchen, check to make sure the door is locked before returning to the bedroom. Maura is turning your bed down, a bed you clearly remember leaving unturned this morning when you stumbled out of it. You toss your toothbrush into the bathroom, hearing it clatter against the sink, earning a slight scowl from Maura. You slip the bedroom lights off and climb onto your side as she does the same on her side.
The two of you lie there, not touching for all of one minute. Then at almost the exact same time you uncross your arms from where they were planted around your stomach and she shifts on the mattress.
And just like that, Maura is scooted as close to you as she can be. She tucks her body into your good side as she lifts her head for your arm to sling underneath her neck. Her head lands softly on your chest, body angled so she isn't on top of any part of your wound. Your free hand gathers hers and tugs it across your hips to lie on the other side of your body, among cool sheets.
You huff a little into her hair, signaling just a little bit that this is so not over. She makes an agreeing sound in the back of her throat.
And tomorrow you're doing couple's therapy. Tomorrow you will definitely yell some more and most likely so will she. Tomorrow you will be forced to talk about your feelings and other outrageous shit. Tomorrow you will probably end up bawling since Maura's sad face tends to be directly linked to your tear ducts. But that's tomorrow.
Tonight, tonight you will sleep with the best thing that's ever happened to you wrapped around your body.