Jane is sick. Sick and alone. Maura left hours ago to go out to breakfast with Angela and only the promise of bunny pancakes made her reel in her whining. But now she's dying. On her deathbed and dying, and there is no one here to whine to. She tried to to Bass, but what good is he. He just retreated into his shell, and that bitch Jo, Jane had tried to hold her close, but she just squirmed away. Now Jane is dying and alone and there is no one that cares to see her off to the other side.
Sniffling, she flings her hand haphazardly onto the coffee table. Everything is in reach, and there is no reason to leave the couch, which will soon be her grave. One package blue, and the other green. She can't remember which is Dayquil and which is Nyquil. Glancing back and forth between the two, she finally makes the executive decision. Green it is.
And an hour later, Jane is all giggles, and she is pretty sure time has slowed, because Maura and her mother are still out at breakfast and Jane is hungry and alone and if the cold doesn't kill her first, starvation will. Scooting her laptop over from the coffee table, she wobbles and sits up, rubs her eyes and opens up the computer to the Google homepage. And ponders for a moment and then begins to type as a smile spreads across her face as she picks up her phone and texts Maura
How long do you and Ma take for breakfast?! I want some Leporiade pancakes!
I'm looking things up on Google to see what it's like to you be you.
Bass is a Geochelone Sultcata. I can't say that though.
ALSO! Did you know that dayquil and nyquil have different colored pills? Blue is for day and green is for night?
Did you not read the box?Jane's smile widens. 'Ha. Box. HA!' and quickly she types in the search bar 'scientific name for vagina' Jane is on a roll. Her thoughts are fuzzy and her limbs are moving a little slower than usual, but damn if Jane Rizzoli's wit wasn't in tact.
Sorgastrom Endoemtrium! HA! I'm a cunninglinguist.
Perhaps you should lie down. We are paying now. I will be home shortly.
Boo. Maura isn't being any fun. Jane is dying and her last dying wish is for her girlfriend to acknowledge how goddamn funny she is.
Maura, I got your wenis.
Go to sleep.
Jane lets out out a huff. 'Oh, she's just the worse.' No. She's not going to sleep. The internet is a big a beautiful place and nyquil is a marvelous thinking tool. So Jane starts scouring.
And she starts bookmarking how to's like: putting an egg in the microwave for a minute then smacking with a blunt object makes it explode. Jane smiles. "That's going in the think tank for later." she says to no one in particular. And then she starts looking up romantic getaways on the Cape, because Jane Rizzoli is a fucking romantic and right now her heart is swelling with cuddly romantic Maura Isles love; and if anything makes Jane happy it's seeing Maura happy. But Hyannis doesn't have what she is looking for. The Vineyard is out of her price range. Sandwich is, well. Sandwich sounds delicious to Jane. 'Ah', a beacon of hope. Provincetown is in her price range, and Jane does a double fist pump when she reads the bed and breakfast as a jacuzzi bath in the room. "You're getting bookmarked."
Then something catches Jane's eye. It's shiny and at the top right corner BnB's homepage. So she clicks it, and 'holy shit, look at those rings.' And 'holy shit, I can afford that.' and 'Holy shit who needs retirement when Maura can have that thing on her finger.' Now Jane is motivated to leave the couch. So bolting upright and running up the stairs, she v-lines for Maura's jewelry box and rather hastily begins to go through each of Maura's rings, looking for any imprint on the inner band of a size. "Come on, come on, come on. AH! AH HA!" and there it was, a simple silver band with the number '5 1/4' printed on the inside. "Got it! Got you! HA! Gonna get me a wife." Jane gently places the ring back down and organizes the jewelry box before slipping back out of the room and back Jane has it narrowed down to two choices, and she's thrown back some more medicine because she needs daytime stuffy head, sniffling, sneezing, headache relief. Only, "Goddamnit!" it was the green again and not the blue, and Jane begins to question if she is color blind or just an idiot. But no matter, because Jane Rizzoli has engagement rings in browser windows open all over her laptop and it's like she fell into a diamond mine.
And there it is; a three-tier Princess cut encased in white gold. "You're it. You're the one." Jane says, pressing her finger against the screen; "You. You. You." Click. Sized. Shopping cart. Debit Card. Two-day delivery, and Jane is on her way.
Deleting her history, Jane leans back on the couch and threads her fingers together behind her head. 'Time for a sandwich.' And as Jane makes her way to the fridge, the carton of eggs there and the microwave are too good of a combination to pass up.
Only Jane should have passed it up, because she has been shunned to the guest house with her mother who has done nothing but nagged her for the past hour about how she is an adult and not a child and Jane is only half way listening because the nyquil is wearing off and she is trying really hard to remember where her day went.
Only it all comes crashing back when her phone buzzes.Has your mother properly nagged you to death for taking an entire carton of eggs and making them explode all over the kitchen?
No, but you can give me a proper tongue lashing ;)
Don't you winky emoticon me, Jane Rizzoli
That's what happens when you leave me along with nyquil and Google. I can't be held accountable for my actions.
And why were you looking at Princess cut diamond rings?'OH FUCK.' That's where her day went. Suddenly Jane doesn't have a response and a cold grip takes place in her stomach. It's all coming back now. Flooding back, in fact. Heat rises on the back of her neck and she swallows hard.
WHAT?! I deleted my browser history. No. I was linked through to it. Mouse slipped.
'Please buy it. Please buy it.' Jane's pleading to any higher being that is out there listening.
Cookies only. And Internet Explorer, really, Jane? That can't be trusted.
Lets stay more on the subject of cookies and less on what inebriated Jane gets linked to, ok?
Get back over here and clean up these egg yolks.
Jane can't help herself. She has to know. Did she really do that? Was it all a medically induced delusion? 'Please. I'll never take nyquil again.'
Only, no. Her bank account is three thousand dollars lighter and Jane feels like she is going to throw up. Not because she bought a ring; well, partially, because she has no plan to execute with it, but mostly because she dropped three thousand fucking dollars. And Jane Rizzoli would have married Maura Isles yesterday if the opportunity had arisen, because Maura Isles makes her want to be a honest woman. The doctor who tamed the wild Rizzoli's heart.
Jane smiles as she thinks of Maura in a white dress, beaming at her as she walks down the pitchers mound at Fenway; and she muffles a laugh, because as amazing as that sounds what she really wants is something they both want, which really means whatever Maura wants, because Jane would crawl across the desert just to sweat in that woman's shadow. She looks over at Maura and replays the word 'wife' over and over again in her head. And it makes Jane's heart with all cute and love and romance aside, Jane is panicking looking at her bank account. It's 1am and Maura is asleep, and Maura cannot know about this. Not even a hint. She needs to hide the ring, away from herself and far away from Maura until she can figure something out. Then an idea. She will pawn this off on Frankie. 'He will do it. He has to do it.'So quietly picking up her phone she begins typing out a text.
Can we just..
Can we just what?
Can we just talk about how there is magically 3k gone from my bank account.
That much money doesn't just disappear like that, Janie.
You're right. It doesn't. I found it. I'm going to pass out.
WHAT'S WRONG?!Jane shakes her phone and shushes it. Frankie's caps are yelling in her head, and she is terrified that Maura is going to wake up and will see 'Will you marry me' lit up on her forehead.
STOP YELLING AT ME. YOU'LL WAKE MAURA UP. I bought a ring. I BOUGHT A RING. Frankie. I'm going to have to guard the mailbox. Frankie. I'm hyperventilating. Frankie, if I'm sick again, let me die. When this thing gets here you need to take it and hide it away from me and Maura and her scientific eyes.
WHAT. I CAN YELL ALL I WANT IT'S A TEXT YOU IDIOT. And no way, I can't have that type of responsibility.
OHHHH yes you will, or SO HELP ME you will be directing traffic until your dying day.
It was settled, and Jane sets her phone down on the bedside table. Looking over at Maura as she lies down, she brushes a stray piece of hair from in front of the sleeping woman's face and smiles. Gently she pulls her hand back and in the expanse of the dark room a simple question fills the air, it is soft and delicate and Jane means it with every ounce of her being, and she is sure she hears Maura say yes as she turns over. Her heart skips a beat, and scooting forward she wraps her arm around her waist. She conforms to Maura's sleeping form; two pieces fitting seamlessly together; and placing a gentle kiss on her neck shuts her eyes.