Chapter Text
"You're not going to convince me," she repeated for the tenth time, laughing as she walked toward the room, trying to escape the man's persistence.
"I'm not trying to convince you, love. I'm asking you to come with me. It's very different," he said, trying to keep a straight face so he wouldn't burst out laughing at the whole situation. Gabriel's eyes followed her as she slid her index finger along the narrow hallway wall. He was beginning to think that she was provoking him to beg.
Jane stopped suddenly, a faint smile forming at those words. She had gotten what she wanted. The smile vanished as she turned to meet his eyes. He wasn't going to convince her to go out; it was her day off, and all she wanted to do was lounge on the couch with a beer and watch the hockey game.
"Now you're begging?" she asked, almost laughing.
"I don't want to go alone. Besides, my boss wants to meet you."
Jane sighed and crossed her arms over her chest.
"I already know your boss."
"Yes, but he hasn't met you in person. And you know this event is a good opportunity for me to get the promotion I've been waiting for months."
"You deserve it. You don't have to go to an event to prove it. I don't have to go," she specified.
"Just this once. I promise."
"Gabriel..." No one knew better than her that once he started insisting like that, she wouldn't be able to escape him. So, the only option left to her was to negotiate.
"Just one hour. There will be a small commemoration, and right next to it, guess what
"Hmm?"
"There's going to be an art show! And your mother mentioned that you like art.
"She says that because I liked to draw when I was ten. Is the exhibition supposed to be an incentive? It's having the opposite effect," she sighed dramatically and flopped down on the bed.
"Come on, Jane... just this once, and... there's something else."
"Let me guess. You want me to wear the black dress you were trying to hide?"
Gabriel opened his mouth to deny it, but there was no point. Angela had warned him that it would have been better to leave it at her place to avoid the risk of Jane finding it.
"Yes, although I know you're going to say no. I had to try, at least," he sighed resignedly.
"I wasn't going to say no."
"I know. Wait. What? Are you serious?"
"Just this once. After today, there won't be any more formal events like this for the rest of the year, let alone dresses," Jane wouldn't sacrifice her day off or the game without gaining something in return.
"But it's still summer."
"Fall is just around the corner. I'll get dressed before I change my mind."
"Thank you, love!" He kissed her on the lips, a broad grin on his face.
Jane watched him until the bathroom door closed, and she heard the water running. She knew exactly where her husband had hidden the dress. She would never have found it if she hadn't searched every inch of the room for some documents.
She crouched down in front of the dresser and opened the bottom drawer. There it was, the dress, under a yellow envelope and in a clear bag. She knew that she rarely wore dresses, but... to go so far as to hide it?
The contents of her wardrobe had changed since she started at the police academy. The variety of colors had diminished, and the black pants had increased. The left corner consisted of several solid-colored blouses—work clothes.
She liked her clothes; they were comfortable and perfect for her profession. Still, she must admit that her wedding day had been the last time she wore a dress.
"The issue with the reserved space has been resolved, Constance. Mavin sends his regards," said Ella.
"Thank you for taking care of it, Ella. I can always count on you," Constance replied, crossing her arms as her gaze was once again lost in the sea of people on the first floor of the exhibit. She knew she should have handled the guest list; their mistake had almost cost them one of their most loyal collectors. But now, thanks to Ella, everything was going as smoothly as ever.
Constance's gaze was drawn to the woman trying to converse with one of the guests. The woman was nervous and didn't want to continue the conversation that the unknown man insisted on having.
"I've never seen her so nervous," Ella commented.
Constance glanced at Ella before smiling. "It's her first time, after all." Her eyes focused on the painting at the end of the hall.
"Finally. I thought I wouldn't live to see it."
"I concur."
It had been challenging to convince Maura.
Constance's daughter glanced over her shoulder as if she had heard them. She said a few words to the man before turning away and hurrying toward them.
"You need to relax a little, dear. I've heard nothing but positive things about your painting. I'm very proud of you," Constance said.
"I can't help it. I'm not comfortable sharing my art, Mother."
"It's anonymous," Ella added.
"Not even that," Constance murmured, displeasure on her lips. She still struggled to understand why Maura didn't want to share her paintings, let alone receive any kind of recognition for her work and talent.
"I can't believe it," Ella said in astonishment. "I'll be right back." She had to see for herself. She had personally labeled each artist's name and was sure Maura's painting was anonymous.
"She will be upset when she sees you've undone her work. You know how she gets when that happens," her mother warned.
"I don't think so."
"Not having a plaque with your name or a pseudonym doesn't make it any less anonymous, dear."
"I'm aware of that, Mother. I just didn't want anything around the painting."
"I can't believe it! Maura!"
Constance couldn't hide her smile. Ella was climbing the stairs to the second floor where they were, annoyance evident in her stride and the echoing sound of her heels.
"I'm sorry, Ella... but the artist has the final say."
"Really? Since when? I'll allow it this time because a miracle has happened, and you've finally worked up the courage to showcase one of your works, or maybe we've forced you to. I'm not quite sure." Ella took a sip of the white wine she had picked up along the way and positioned herself between the two women before speaking in a low voice. "Did you notice the brunette?" Constance and Maura looked at Ella, and she nodded toward the hallway. "The brunette. She hasn't moved in a while."
"This is the first time I've seen her," Constance said. She had never seen her in the previous shows she had done in Boston. "Do you know her, Maura?"
Maura didn't seem to have heard her because she didn't answer. Maura had heard her, but it was as if her mother was miles away and not right beside her. Her mother and Ella were right; she had noticed the woman earlier when talking to the man who wouldn't shut up. Maura had watched her walk around, and it seemed she didn't care much about the art since she had barely spent a few seconds looking at the paintings. Her disinterest in the exhibition was evident. That, or maybe she didn't want to be there.
"You don't know her?" she asked, almost in a whisper, as if talking to herself.
"We were just saying that," her mother replied. "She seems very interested in your painting."
"I'll go talk to her," she announced determinedly.
"Really?" both women asked in unison, looking at her incredulously.
Maura gave them a puzzled look.
"Well, you know... because of your insistence on not wanting anyone to know that the painting belongs to none other than Constance Isles' daughter."
Maura sighed at her mother’s comment.
"Mhm," Ella took another sip of wine. "And sabotaging my work," she whispered, and the young woman's smile let her know she had been heard.
"I said I would talk to her, not tell her all my secrets."
Constance simply smiled and watched closely as her daughter walked away.
Jane stood up from her chair as quickly as possible; she didn't even wait for the applause to die. Gabriel had assured her it would only be half an hour. The thought of spending half an hour listening to politics and FBI business that didn't interest her at all felt like an eternity. She supposed it was one of the prices for being married to one of them.
"You told me it was going to be half an hour. Do you know how boring that was?" Jane protested as they exited into the hallway that separated the two events.
"I can imagine," Gabriel replied with a sigh. He was looking forward to the exhibition; his boss would be there and he could talk to him in a much quieter environment.
"Almost an hour and a half. Where is this art exhibit?" she asked, looking around.
"On the right, at the end. I thought you wouldn't want to go."
They walked with their arms interlocked until they reached the threshold of the exhibit.
"This is what you came for, right? I hope they have alcohol."
"I told you there would be no beer."
"And I told you... Oh." The words caught in her throat as she entered the room reserved for the exhibition. Moments before, she had thought she looked very elegant in the black dress, but now looking at the other art enthusiasts -especially the women- she felt out of place. "You didn't tell me it was a high-class event," she whispered through clenched teeth.
"It's not," he said, leading her inside. "It's just a little... elegant."
"Right," she said sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "Oh, wait." She uncrossed her arm from Gabriel's and stopped one of the servers carrying a tray with drinks.
"Two?" her husband asked, raising an eyebrow.
Jane smiled and brought the glass to her nose, pleased with the aroma. It was clear it wasn't beer; the event was too elegant. She closed her eyes as the first sip went down her throat, only opening them a few seconds later.
"Wow... Okay. I grabbed one for you, but I changed my mind. This is wonderful."
"Do you realize you're drinking wine?"
Jane looked momentarily surprised. She didn't like dry wine very much. Her alcoholic beverage preferences consisted of a variety of beers and the occasional strong liquor. This wine was sweet and delicious.
"It's really good. I dare say better than a beer."
"Who are you, and what have you done with my wife?" he exclaimed playfully.
Jane shrugged with a mischievous smile. They walked side by side, pausing to look at several paintings.
"Constance always serves the best drinks I've ever had. There's a good chance you just drank more than a hundred dollars in those two glasses."
"Are you kidding?"
"No."
Just then, another waiter walked by, and Jane handed him the empty glasses and grabbed another.
"What? Don't look at me like that, Gabriel. I need to make the most of this. I definitely need more than two glasses after wasting an hour of my life listening to your colleagues."
"You didn't waste it. Look at all this art. This time they went for paintings."
"You talk like it's not your first time at one of these things."
"It's not. I've been coming for the past two years," he confirmed with a smile. "And yes, I invited you... but you refused to come. I guess what they say about the third time is true. And look, here you are, enjoying good wine and good art."
"I'm not sure this is good art," she grimaced, looking at the painting before them. "Seriously? A five-year-old could have done it; anyone can draw a few circles in different colors."
"Shhh. Lower your voice; they might hear you."
Jane sighed and looked around to make sure no one was nearby. She had no idea how to tell good from bad about art. The painting did nothing to her. It didn't evoke any emotions.
"And that, seriously?" She tilted her head, trying to find some reason that would make her understand why it deserved to be in the exhibition.
"Don't overthink it."
"I'm doing the exact opposite."
"I know," they started walking until they reached the end of the hallway. You may need to look at it with different eyes.
"Are you going to teach me the art of appreciating it?"
"Not me, but someone else... more knowledgeable could. I understand these paintings as much as you do. I'm just not expressing my confusion."
Jane laughed and took another sip of wine. She drank slowly, savoring each sip as if it were the last.
"Agent Dean!" Gabriel immediately turned when he heard his name and smiled when he saw that it was his boss. He had waited all night for this moment.
"I'll be right back," he said, but Jane didn't hear him.
"Now, this is art," she whispered as she stood before a painting different from all the others. Her lips parted as she felt a surge of emotion. Yes, she understood this painting, or at least it had touched her.
Jane crossed her arms and paused to study every detail of the canvas. She finished the rest of her wine, a sound of appreciation rising from her throat. Jane looked around before deciding to take a step closer. It was her first time at an exhibition, and she wasn't sure if it was appropriate to get so close. She had noticed that the other people around her kept a respectful distance from the artwork, but she needed to get closer to inspect every detail.
"Finished with your glass, ma'am?" a young man asked, holding a tray.
"Oh, God! You startled me!" she exclaimed with a forceful exhale. For a moment, she thought she was being reprimanded.
"I'm sorry, ma'am."
Jane frowned. The young man couldn't have been more than twenty, maybe nineteen.
"You know what..."
The young man swallowed nervously, and Jane smiled to herself. She couldn't end the night without intimidating the poor guy. At the very least, she could make him a little nervous, though she was almost sure she had done that with just one look.
"Ma'am? How old do you think I am?" she said in a serious tone, the same one she used during interrogations.
"I said it out of respe-... Not that much. I think... I mean," he began to stutter, not knowing where to look.
Jane smiled openly and took another glass of wine. She could be cruel sometimes.
"Oh, come on, relax. Thank you for the excellent service," she noticed the name tag, "Brad."
Mission accomplished.
It was then that she realized Gabriel was no longer by her side. She looked around but couldn't find him in the crowd. The only thing she could think of was the painting, so she returned to it and took another sip.
"Who made you..." she whispered, unable to find the plaque that all the other paintings' had.
Someone behind her cleared their throat.
"Babe, help me look for the damn plaque. Where did you go? This is so unfair," she muttered, searching the side of the painting for a name or signature.
It was time for Gabriel to come back and help her. Yes, she knew he had come for "work," but to leave her like that?
"Babe, didn't you hear me?"
She turned when she didn't get an answer and froze when she saw that the person in front of her was not Gabriel, but a woman staring at her, mouth agape.
"Oh. I'm sorry. I thought you were someone else," Jane tried to explain, but all she could think about was how hot her cheeks suddenly felt. She was embarrassed; it had been long since she felt that way. "Jane," she blurted out.
The woman blinked several times, barely closing her mouth.
"I'm Jane, Detective Rizzoli," she held out her hand out of habit and bit her lip. "Jane Rizzoli."
The woman looked into her eyes, her hand, and back at her eyes. Jane thought she wouldn't take her hand. It wouldn't surprise her; these people were like that, with their sense of superiority because of the money in their bank accounts. She had met many like them, those who believed that money made them invincible.
She hoped her surprise didn't show when she felt a firm grip, followed by a soft voice.
"Maura."
"Maura," Jane repeated, looking into bright eyes. "I'm sorry," she whispered, realizing she was still holding her hand.
The blonde smiled and looked up at the painting. Jane took the moment to look at her. If she had thought her black dress wasn't up to the elegance of the place before, now she was sure it wasn't. Maura had to be one of them. Every move she made was graceful, from swirling the glass of red wine between her fingers to her posture. But even though she was one of them, she had an air of simplicity that Jane found strangely appealing. The design of her dress was similar to hers, although the color matched the wine swirling in her glass.
"So you're here for the event. FBI?"
"Yes and no," Jane answered immediately, shifting her gaze to the painting. "Just a detective from Boston. And you? An art lover? FBI?"
"A doctor," Maura glanced at her and smiled. "And art lover."
At that moment, Jane kicked herself for not taking the time to do a little more with her hair. Maura had tied hers into a side ponytail that cascaded over her shoulder, covering the skin exposed by the single-strap dress.
"Can you help me then?" she asked, putting aside her thoughts of insecurity.
Maura looked at her and nodded, though she had no idea how could she be of help.
"Why doesn't this painting have a plaque like the others?" she asked, pointing at the painting with her index finger, causing Maura to shift her gaze to her creation.
"It's anonymous; the creator doesn't wish to be known.
"I've noticed that, and it's so unfair. It's the only painting I like."
Maura tried to control the emotions that ran through her body when she heard those words.
"Why?" she asked, trying to maintain an air of indifference.
"Well," the brunette sighed and studied the painting for several seconds before answering. "Don't take this wrong, but I know nothing about art. This painting makes sense to me. While all the others have failed to capture my attention... but this one... it's mesmerizing. Every time I look at it I find something new. And the meaning..."
Those last words caught the blonde's attention, and a smile graced her lips... Could she possibly deduce it?
"I don't think they're just a couple. They're more than that," Jane said without taking her eyes off the painting as if in a trance.
Maura's smile widened.
"It's the way she holds her by the hip. It's very intimate..." She looked at one of the women with a green dress and dark hair flowing down to her waist, adorned with flowers in almost every strand. "I still don't understand the mask," she whispered. It was a green-beaked mask, unlike a plague doctor's, but more like a falcon's. "Even though she's being held, she maintains an elegant pose."
"Is she at her mercy?" Maura dared to ask.
"I don't think so."
Maura took another sip of wine and licked her lips, glancing at the woman. It was a new sensation to have a stranger so interested in her art and, more importantly, to understand it at least a little.
"There is no rejection. She lets herself be held but keeps her feet on the ground. I'm not sure I'm explaining it well," Jane looked at her and chuckled nervously.
"I understand."
"What do you think it means?"
"It's in the eyes of the beholder. What does it mean to you?"
"You're avoiding answering."
"Well, now I'm sure you're an exceptional detective," Jane smiled but decided not to press her further and took several seconds to formulate her response.
"They seem to be in a forest surrounded by nature. I say that because of the birds and butterflies and..." Jane paused to gather her thoughts, and her eyes widened as she looked at the blonde as if she had discovered a treasure. "You're going to think I'm crazy, but I think I've got it."
"Interesting," Maura thought.
"And what would that be, Detective?"
"She represents nature," Jane pointed to the woman wearing the mask. "And that could be us," she pointed to the other woman in a simple white dress. "Humanity."
Maura stared at her, mouth open, almost losing her grip on the wine glass between her fingers.
"Are you okay? You lost color for a second. It was a silly assumption, wasn't it? I knew I wasn't good at this."
"No... It was a good assumption. I like it," she whispered slowly, careful not to say yes; that's precisely what it was about. "Nature has control over us, humanity. It frightens us with its rain, tornadoes, and earthquakes. Sometimes, it plays with us. It controls us," both of them directed their gazes toward the woman in green. "We live in it, we age with it... in a way, we are its slaves. But she," Maura paused as Jane dared to touch the canvas, brushing her finger against the woman in white, "has found ways to dominate it, to destroy it. We destroy its forests and poison its oceans. She also controls nature. Perhaps she holds her because she has no choice but to serve her, or maybe the one in white keeps her arms by her side because, after all, she always waits for nature to fix the destruction she has caused, to clean its oceans, its wounds... without considering that one day nature might turn its back on her," she sighed, taking a deliberate pause. "She is nothing more than a naive and destructive burden."
"The one in white..." Jane whispered, mesmerized by the doctor's words.
"Yes. Perhaps that's why she has that faint smile on her lips. Could it be because of the beauty of nature? The beautiful flowers in her hair or the birds fluttering around her that she thinks will always be there?"
"She is blind to the destruction she causes."
Maura looked at her, surprised because that was precisely what she was going to say next.
"She knows it. She knows there will always be a wave in the ocean and the fragrance of her flowers," Jane continued.
"She is her master. Nature has no choice but to try to hold her and repair humanity's damage, but she is also a slave to nature. She needs it to live, breathe, drink, and eat the food that only nature can provide."
"We have to do this again."
Maura cleared her throat, fearing she had given herself away.
"I like that idea, although we won't know unless we talk to its creator," she frowned, and Maura smiled. "It brings me back to what I mentioned earlier. Why doesn't it have a plaque?"
"There can be many reasons for that..."
"I would like to have it. I wonder if I can buy it," Jane said to herself.
"I don't think you can."
Jane misinterpreted her words for a moment and looked at her offended.
"Because can't I afford it? I have..."
"I didn't mean it that way. It's not for sale."
Jane grumbled and crossed her arms again.
"Unfair," she muttered under her breath.
"But I could..."
"Love! You won't believe what just happened."
Maura closed her mouth.
"I imagine he told you he would think about it."
Gabriel looked at her, stunned. There was no way he could surprise his wife.
"Let me introduce you to Maura, a doctor and an art lover." They both turned their attention to the woman. "Maura, meet Gabriel, my husband."
"A pleasure to meet you," Maura said, feeling a sudden pang in her chest.
"I told you that you would find someone more suitable."
Maura's gaze was fixed on the ring's sparkle on the detective's hand. She felt disoriented. Her bright and confused eyes met Jane's dark ones, looking for an explanation.
"He had told me someone more 'capable' would teach me about the art world."
"Then I believe you have found that person," Maura said with a kind smile.