Death by Lunch (Rizzoli & Isles TV)
Jul. 11th, 2015 04:04 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
asphaltcowgrrlTitle: Death by Lunch
Fandom: Rizzoli & Isles TV Show
Pairing: Gen
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,147
Summary: Jane has food poisoning and Maura, as usual, thinks she has it all figured out. How wrong she is.
Author’s Note: Written for the Pool Party challenge at 1_Million_Words. Also for the weekend challenge at the same community. I’ve been trying for a week to write in the Rizzoli & Isles book fandom, since I much prefer the books to the show (although I live for this freaking show, TNT), but I just couldn’t figure it out. Then, I got this marvelous bit of dialogue for the weekend challenge and viola. We have a winner, folks. Also, I’m crunched for time and can’t bear to look at this again. So, if there are any errors/typos, feel free to point them out so I can fix them. Like uh, Monday.
"You don't have any idea what she ingested that would cause this amount of vomiting?" The doctor looked from the disgruntled patient in the bed to the well-dressed woman standing beside it.
Maura cocked her head to the side, golden blonde hair falling in a cascade across her shoulder and back. “Well, actually, I can think of quite a few things that might cause this volume of regurgitation. Poisoning, for one. And then there’s –”
“Maura,” Jane groaned from the hospital bed. “That’s not what she meant.”
“Well then,” Maura said, slightly put out that Jane had stopped her before she’d gotten a chance to get started. “I think it was the tuna.”
“Tuna?” The doctor took in the medical examiner for a long moment, waiting for further explanation.
“Maura,” Jane moaned again.
“Right.” Maura patted Jane’s hand and launched into a very detailed, very medically correct depiction of their lunch together earlier that day.
She reiterated her warning to Jane that mayonnaise-based foods weren’t good for hot summer days, but as usual, Jane refused to listen. Jane was Jane after all and some things weren’t ever going to change. Here, Maura shook her head and Jane reminded herself that she was dying and couldn’t be bothered to strangle the life out of her best friend. No matter how much she might deserve it. By the time Maura had finished her recounting of their lunch, the doctor looked a bit lost.
“I see,” she said, looking at the dying Jane on the hard, unforgiving hospital mattress. “Your friend here thinks you have food poisoning.”
“I don’t know,” Jane nearly sobbed. “But whatever it is, it’s killing me.”
“Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” Maura said, brushing Jane’s hair out of her eyes. “Maybe next time you’ll listen to me.”
Jane flicked her eyes to the doctor. “The minute I can move without wanting to hurl, I’m going to kill her. With my own two hands.”
When she came around several hours later, she heard a multitude of voices yammering incessantly around her. Jane wanted to scream at them to shut the hell up, sick people were trying to heal for god’s sake, but she didn’t. Or rather, she simply couldn’t, she was still so weak. At least she didn’t want to cut her stomach out with a rusty knife any longer. That much must mean progress.
“No, they didn’t have to pump her stomach, Korsak. How could you even think that –”
A throaty chuckle cut Maura off. “Well, this is Jane we’re dealing with,” he said. “You know how much she likes to make things as difficult for everyone as possible.”
“This is true,” another very familiar voice said. Frankie, she thought it had to be. “That’s my sister for ya.”
Definitely Frankie.
“If you ask me,” the voice that she couldn’t ever forget, that of her mother, interjected, “it’s a trait all the Rizzoli children have.”
Jane smiled, imagining the look Angela was currently giving her youngest child. “Guys,” she tried to say, but nothing came out. Closing her eyes, she tried again. “Guys. Stop it. It hurts to laugh.”
“Janie,” her mother shouted, rushing to her bedside. “How are you feeling? Can I get ya anything?”
“No, ma,” Jane said, loving for once that her mother was so… motherly. “I’m good. Just want some rest.”
“And no more tuna sandwiches,” Maura added, helpfully.
“Maura, can you let the sandwich go?” That Maura was able to irritate her even in the hospital was a sign that she had to be getting better.
“Actually,” the doctor said, entering the room, “we don’t think it was the tuna that gave her the food poisoning.”
“Really?” Angela’s ears perked up at that admission. “What do you think it was then?”
“Considering her symptoms, it’s less likely that it was spoiled mayonnaise that caused Ms. Rizzoli’s distress. We’re leaning towards contaminated, uncooked fish.”
Jane’s eyes widened and she forced herself into a sitting position, causing a sharp, shooting pain to spike through her head. “Ah-hah,” she said, attempting to ignore the oncoming headache. “I knew it.”
“Knew what?” Angela looked from her daughter to the doctor and then around the room.
“Nothing, Angela,” Maura said, forcing a smile to her face. “Jane’s still a bit out of it from having been so ill.”
“Oh no you don’t, Maura.” Jane looked at her mother while pointing at her best friend. “She kept insisting I had no sense of adventure. That I had no culture and never would. She made me eat her sushi.”
“Angela, I had no idea,” Maura began.
“You gave my daughter food poisoning?” Angela Rizzoli’s voice had begun to rise, reaching that Boston-born Italian mother decibel level within seconds.
“Ma,” Jane chuckled, clutching her belly as she did so. “She didn’t do it on purpose.”
“Of course not, Mrs. Rizzoli,” Korsak said, trying to settle the upset mother. “Maura wouldn’t ever put Jane in danger.”
Angela focused her mom-glare on the woman that had become her friend as well as her daughter’s best pal. “Stop forcing my Janie to eat strange things,” she said. “She’s got a sensitive stomach.”
“Yes, Angela,” Maura agreed, dipping her head a bit in acknowledgement and submission. “I promise to never force your daughter – or any of your children – to have a bit of culture.”
Jane burst into laughter, despite the pain. Maura had quite a talent for injecting just enough sarcasm into her words to make her point and yet, still come across as if she were being humble. It never ceased to amuse Jane. “Oh Maura, sometimes, you’re too much.”
“So, I’m forgiven then?” She looked at Jane hopefully.
“Of course you are. If the doc hadn’t said anything, I’d still be blaming the stupid tuna sandwich for all of this.”
“It still could have been at fault, you know,” Maura added.
“It doesn’t matter, Maura,” Jane said. “But no more lunches from that place ever again. Agreed?”
Maura smiled. “Agreed, Jane.”
“Well then, if that’s settled, everyone out. My little Janie needs her sleep.” Angela opened the door and waited while everyone filed out. “She can come home in the morning?”
“Yes, she can, Mrs. Rizzoli. Just keeping her overnight to rehydrate her and make sure none of the symptoms reoccur.”
“Good enough. Come on, Frankie. Take your ol’ ma out to dinner.”
“You got it, Ma,” Frankie said, looking over his shoulder to make a face at Jane.
“See you guys tomorrow,” Jane called as her mother exited and closed the door behind her. Closing her eyes, her body shook with laughter. “Oh god,” she groaned, hating herself for causing more pain. Some days, she would trade them all for a quarter, but on days like today, they were worth more than all the quarters in the world. Even when they tried to murder her with unsuspecting raw fish.
Fandom: Rizzoli & Isles TV Show
Pairing: Gen
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,147
Summary: Jane has food poisoning and Maura, as usual, thinks she has it all figured out. How wrong she is.
Author’s Note: Written for the Pool Party challenge at 1_Million_Words. Also for the weekend challenge at the same community. I’ve been trying for a week to write in the Rizzoli & Isles book fandom, since I much prefer the books to the show (although I live for this freaking show, TNT), but I just couldn’t figure it out. Then, I got this marvelous bit of dialogue for the weekend challenge and viola. We have a winner, folks. Also, I’m crunched for time and can’t bear to look at this again. So, if there are any errors/typos, feel free to point them out so I can fix them. Like uh, Monday.
"You don't have any idea what she ingested that would cause this amount of vomiting?" The doctor looked from the disgruntled patient in the bed to the well-dressed woman standing beside it.
Maura cocked her head to the side, golden blonde hair falling in a cascade across her shoulder and back. “Well, actually, I can think of quite a few things that might cause this volume of regurgitation. Poisoning, for one. And then there’s –”
“Maura,” Jane groaned from the hospital bed. “That’s not what she meant.”
“Well then,” Maura said, slightly put out that Jane had stopped her before she’d gotten a chance to get started. “I think it was the tuna.”
“Tuna?” The doctor took in the medical examiner for a long moment, waiting for further explanation.
“Maura,” Jane moaned again.
“Right.” Maura patted Jane’s hand and launched into a very detailed, very medically correct depiction of their lunch together earlier that day.
She reiterated her warning to Jane that mayonnaise-based foods weren’t good for hot summer days, but as usual, Jane refused to listen. Jane was Jane after all and some things weren’t ever going to change. Here, Maura shook her head and Jane reminded herself that she was dying and couldn’t be bothered to strangle the life out of her best friend. No matter how much she might deserve it. By the time Maura had finished her recounting of their lunch, the doctor looked a bit lost.
“I see,” she said, looking at the dying Jane on the hard, unforgiving hospital mattress. “Your friend here thinks you have food poisoning.”
“I don’t know,” Jane nearly sobbed. “But whatever it is, it’s killing me.”
“Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” Maura said, brushing Jane’s hair out of her eyes. “Maybe next time you’ll listen to me.”
Jane flicked her eyes to the doctor. “The minute I can move without wanting to hurl, I’m going to kill her. With my own two hands.”
When she came around several hours later, she heard a multitude of voices yammering incessantly around her. Jane wanted to scream at them to shut the hell up, sick people were trying to heal for god’s sake, but she didn’t. Or rather, she simply couldn’t, she was still so weak. At least she didn’t want to cut her stomach out with a rusty knife any longer. That much must mean progress.
“No, they didn’t have to pump her stomach, Korsak. How could you even think that –”
A throaty chuckle cut Maura off. “Well, this is Jane we’re dealing with,” he said. “You know how much she likes to make things as difficult for everyone as possible.”
“This is true,” another very familiar voice said. Frankie, she thought it had to be. “That’s my sister for ya.”
Definitely Frankie.
“If you ask me,” the voice that she couldn’t ever forget, that of her mother, interjected, “it’s a trait all the Rizzoli children have.”
Jane smiled, imagining the look Angela was currently giving her youngest child. “Guys,” she tried to say, but nothing came out. Closing her eyes, she tried again. “Guys. Stop it. It hurts to laugh.”
“Janie,” her mother shouted, rushing to her bedside. “How are you feeling? Can I get ya anything?”
“No, ma,” Jane said, loving for once that her mother was so… motherly. “I’m good. Just want some rest.”
“And no more tuna sandwiches,” Maura added, helpfully.
“Maura, can you let the sandwich go?” That Maura was able to irritate her even in the hospital was a sign that she had to be getting better.
“Actually,” the doctor said, entering the room, “we don’t think it was the tuna that gave her the food poisoning.”
“Really?” Angela’s ears perked up at that admission. “What do you think it was then?”
“Considering her symptoms, it’s less likely that it was spoiled mayonnaise that caused Ms. Rizzoli’s distress. We’re leaning towards contaminated, uncooked fish.”
Jane’s eyes widened and she forced herself into a sitting position, causing a sharp, shooting pain to spike through her head. “Ah-hah,” she said, attempting to ignore the oncoming headache. “I knew it.”
“Knew what?” Angela looked from her daughter to the doctor and then around the room.
“Nothing, Angela,” Maura said, forcing a smile to her face. “Jane’s still a bit out of it from having been so ill.”
“Oh no you don’t, Maura.” Jane looked at her mother while pointing at her best friend. “She kept insisting I had no sense of adventure. That I had no culture and never would. She made me eat her sushi.”
“Angela, I had no idea,” Maura began.
“You gave my daughter food poisoning?” Angela Rizzoli’s voice had begun to rise, reaching that Boston-born Italian mother decibel level within seconds.
“Ma,” Jane chuckled, clutching her belly as she did so. “She didn’t do it on purpose.”
“Of course not, Mrs. Rizzoli,” Korsak said, trying to settle the upset mother. “Maura wouldn’t ever put Jane in danger.”
Angela focused her mom-glare on the woman that had become her friend as well as her daughter’s best pal. “Stop forcing my Janie to eat strange things,” she said. “She’s got a sensitive stomach.”
“Yes, Angela,” Maura agreed, dipping her head a bit in acknowledgement and submission. “I promise to never force your daughter – or any of your children – to have a bit of culture.”
Jane burst into laughter, despite the pain. Maura had quite a talent for injecting just enough sarcasm into her words to make her point and yet, still come across as if she were being humble. It never ceased to amuse Jane. “Oh Maura, sometimes, you’re too much.”
“So, I’m forgiven then?” She looked at Jane hopefully.
“Of course you are. If the doc hadn’t said anything, I’d still be blaming the stupid tuna sandwich for all of this.”
“It still could have been at fault, you know,” Maura added.
“It doesn’t matter, Maura,” Jane said. “But no more lunches from that place ever again. Agreed?”
Maura smiled. “Agreed, Jane.”
“Well then, if that’s settled, everyone out. My little Janie needs her sleep.” Angela opened the door and waited while everyone filed out. “She can come home in the morning?”
“Yes, she can, Mrs. Rizzoli. Just keeping her overnight to rehydrate her and make sure none of the symptoms reoccur.”
“Good enough. Come on, Frankie. Take your ol’ ma out to dinner.”
“You got it, Ma,” Frankie said, looking over his shoulder to make a face at Jane.
“See you guys tomorrow,” Jane called as her mother exited and closed the door behind her. Closing her eyes, her body shook with laughter. “Oh god,” she groaned, hating herself for causing more pain. Some days, she would trade them all for a quarter, but on days like today, they were worth more than all the quarters in the world. Even when they tried to murder her with unsuspecting raw fish.
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Date: 2015-07-12 12:34 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-07-13 06:02 pm (UTC)