RIZZOLI & ISLES

Rescue

iDreamofLovex

Title: Rescue

Author: iDreamofLovex

Fandom: Rizzoli & Isles

Pairing: Eventual Jane/Maura

Rating: PG for now… Ratings will be higher, later.

Summary: Jane gets a call in the middle of the night…

Disclaimers: I wish I owned them, but I don’t.

Rescue

iDreamofLovex

Chapter 1. The Call

“Jane.”

Her bedside clock glared sharply in the night, the green numbers displaying that it was the most unlucky time of night– Or morning, rather: 3 AM, a time when the dark fell silent, and things started going bump in the night. But it was never about the time. The brunette was perched upright by her elbow, her cell phone smashed in between her cheek and her hand. The only thing keeping her from springing off the mattress, struggling into a pair of jeans just at the mere sound of her name being uttered that way was the vice–grip her sheets had on her, tangled around her legs. It seemed that Maura wasn’t the only one having trouble sleeping. But it wasn’t about the sleep, either. It was never about the sleep.

“Maura? What’s wrong, what happened!” The alarm in her voice vanquished any remnants of sleep, or lack there of, that may have normally choked her throat at being awoken at this time of night. She could still hear the echo of her name in her ear, uttered so quietly that Jane hadn’t been sure if she had dreamt it or not. The room slowly shifted back into a focus Jane hadn’t realized she had lost: The moon bathing her floor in a taunting glow, yesterday’s clothes strewn across the hardwood… All subtle yet true reminders that this was not a dream. Possibly a nightmare, but certainly not a dream.

The breathing on the other end was ragged, strong, and increasingly becoming more normal as time passed. The seconds ticked on slowly, but Jane was sure her heartbeat was loud enough to be heard over the phone, over the other woman’s breathing. It was the waiting that killed her. Jane was not a patient woman. Her line of work prided her on that, rewarded her for it even. Maura would count her heartbeats and incessantly remind her that cops had one of the highest rates of heart problems than any other profession, and then maybe she would scold her about jumping to conclusions about assuming something was wrong. Jane longed for one of the two options to be the next thing she heard through the ear piece. She would endure the heart problems if it meant that everything else was okay.

“I– I’m okay.” The words were choked, and Jane could hear an audible swallow from the other end. The mental image of Maura– Calm, cool, and collected Maura, so rattled and frightened over something was too much for Jane. She sliced up dead bodies for a living, for Christ’s sake! Furiously Jane kicked her feet, fighting the twisted bed sheets from her thighs until they pooled on the floor beside her. Liberated, the woman stood, padding her feet across the cool wood. “I’m fine, really. Physically, I’m fine. It was nothing. I just…” Jane half–listened to the babble while fighting her way into her discarded black slacks. Maura trailed off as soon as her button snapped into place over her underwear, her makeshift pajamas. It was strange. Strange for Maura to be fighting for words. Strange for Maura to be calling her. The situations usually ended up with Jane calling Maura in the middle of the night.

“I’m coming over.”

Chapter 2. The Scene

By the time Jane Rizzoli arrived, the area around Dr. Maura Isle’s home had blown up into a chaotic mess. Only a few minutes and several traffic violations brought Jane to the scene, and if her boot smashing the pedal down to the floor on the way over hadn’t plunged her heart straight down into her stomach, the blue and red flashing lights that greeted her, had. Blue and red pierced through the dark sky, dancing across the brick house, a place Jane sought solace, but now felt ominous in the night. Jane Rizzoli was a weathered Homicide Detective, well–worn by her work on countless homicide cases and multiple near–death experiences. But nothing in her line of work prepared her for this. Nothing prepared a detective for when it became personal. “Jane.” Maura’s words played through her mind on an endless loop while navigating her vehicle past skyscrapers, now a miserable taunt to what she arrived to. Squad cars littered the streets, pulled up on the driveway where Jane herself had parked countless times. Detective Rizzoli wasn’t allowed to feel fear and yet it took hold of her, squeezed, and didn’t let go… Because all she could do, was hear Maura’s voice.

Phone call, in the middle of the night. Maura, reaching out for help. Why couldn’t she have stopped to ask Maura what had happened? How could she have possibly known? Seeing cops swarm the grounds underneath the swirl of lights… Jane gritted her teeth in frustration at herself, but mostly to keep the pinpricks of new tears at bay. Her thoughts automatically traveled to the darkest corners of her mind, her job conditioned her to assume the worse. But she couldn’t believe… Not with the white boxed Coroner’s van, waiting ever so patiently… that The Queen of the Dead could be dead herself, there had to be some other explanation. There wasn’t much that could draw Boston Police and Medical Examiners to the same place, in the dead of night. Jane didn’t waste any time. Not a care in the world went to her car, parked haphazardly in the middle of the street– Not a single second thought wasted on something that could be replaced if need be, as billowing dark locks and flat boots clicked fiercely up the cobblestone walk. Coming up the side didn’t offer any reassurance, because Jane was unable to see much of anything. Police personnel scattered across the lawn in clusters. Forensics, with their titles displayed proudly on the back of dark jackets, scoured the grounds for trace evidence. How ironic this all was now, that Jane’s being had once thrived on scenes like these. There were several faces, too many of them familiar, but not a single one belonging to the face she was looking for. Her eyes frantically flickered from forlorn face to forlorn face, searching. Searching for the serious eyes, a wisp of blonde hair. Any shred of proof that Maura Isles was not about to become a memory. No, she wouldn’t let that happen. The heart weighing down Jane’s stomach was the only thing keeping her from losing dinner, dessert, and the previous nights’ beers as she felt the bile churn.

“Ma’am, this is a secured area.” Rizzoli hadn’t even payed the rookie cop a second glance on her initial scan, but the looming man appeared in her path, inflating his shoulders as if to assert his dominance over the no–nonsense Italian. Hurricane Rizzoli, on the other hand, had a much different idea. “Detective Rizzoli!” Jane barked, not losing speed as she navigated around the cop, up around the side of the house and merging on to Maura’s main walk.

Flash an empty beer bottle, a child–like smile. Maura’s first beer. Flash Medical room, bottle of red wine, dead fridge cheese. Flash “… I have your back, Jane.”

The front door loomed into view, the house numbers lit up on the side and ironically inviting. It seemed every light was on inside of the massive home, the yellow squares of the windows teasing her as shadows passed in the living room, mocking the shadows in her brain. Drawing up the path, the epicenter of the madness revealed itself. On the front stoop, lay death, as only Jane could guess. A wall of men impeded her view, but it had all the signs of death. All with their backs to her, heads hunkered down, seemingly staring at their feet. Jane knew better. What they were staring at could be feet, but feet that belonged to a corpse. The wind carried Rizzoli up the walk but she didn’t feel the chill, didn’t realize either when her even footfalls broke into an erratic sprint to close the gap between herself and the people. Herself and the body. One of the men broke off from the group, skin dark as night, his arm thrown across his lips as if to stifle something, turning his back on the body. Jane blinked, individually the features registering as she skidded to a halt in front of him. Frost. And knowing him, that thing he was stifling… Was stomach bile. Jane felt herself wanting to puke, too, as a new wave of tears pricked her eyes. She couldn’t be too late.

“Frost, where’s Maura!” The shrill fear in her own voice knocked Jane off–guard, but her wild gaze locked on Frost never faltered. The sight of the man brought a fresh whirlwind of questions to her mind: He had been formally called to the scene, but the only call Rizzoli had received… Was from Maura. “And why wasn’t I called to the scene?” Unfortunately for Frost, he was the first one to be swept up into Hurricane Jane, burdened with baring the first brute force of the winds. Would they have called Jane to the scene if Maura were dead, knowing their background? Jane couldn’t believe… Couldn’t believe…

Frost blinked, as if recognizing her for the first time. If he was startled by her outburst, he didn’t say, only dropped his arm away from his face, the image of the corpse chased away by Jane’s apparent fear. “Rizzoli. Dr. Isles. Is. Fine. She told us she called you.”

Relief. It flooded her from all sides of her body, radiated through every single tendon in her body. Fine. She’d take it over dead any day. Jane could tell by the way Frost’s eyes took a dip down to his dress shoes and shuffled them uncomfortably, that there was more to the story than that. As more people filed past her, she realized she didn’t really care what he was hiding. Jane felt light with the news, lighter knowing that Dr. Isles, as he put it was in fact, fine. But if she was so fine, it begged the question: What was all of this?

The news visibly deflated the tension within Rizzoli. Two pink lips pursed together to keep the heat from rising to her face, embarrassment replacing the nerves in a flood. She hadn’t taken the driveway and the cobblestone path as Detective Jane Rizzoli, but as someone else. Someone scared, someone frightened, and someone that she wouldn’t have let within twenty feet of a crime scene on a regular night. “You’ve gotta see this, though. And Rizzoli? You’re not going to like it.” Something passed in the air between them, a silent ‘I won’t tell if you don’t’– Her about the puking, and him about a display of emotion that would only give the men she worked with a reason to tease her. Her tresses shook in a nod, as Frost nodded to the men standing around what she needed to see. The wall caved as the men parted, offering some visibility. Jane ascended the few stone steps outside of Maura’s front door, and gasped.

Wavy dark hair fanned the pavement in a curtain, strands whipping in the cool night air. Olive skin hid beneath a black pantsuit, facial features placidly frozen in death. Maura’s frightened voice on the other end suddenly made sense. Jane Rizzoli was staring down at her body double, an image of herself sprawled across the pavement. “She… She looks like me.” Of course there were differences, but they weren’t startling enough to stop Jane from staring transfixed at the dead woman. Only the sound of Frost’s voice was able to bring her head above water.

“Creepy, huh? The Medical Examiner thinks that the body was dressed after the murder, and dumped here. We think it was intentional.” Barry didn’t dare to look at the body again, keeping his posture level and his eyes on Jane. You really couldn’t risk throwing up on an unexamined corpse.

There were a lot of questions Jane should be asking. Like the cause of death, like what he meant by intentional. With Jane’s emotions having been run so high, her mind seemed to be running on a single track to match. “By Medical Examiner, you don’t mean Maura, do you?” Jane asked, but something told her in the way he said it that she already knew the answer. Frost shook his head, confirming her suspicions. “Korsak thought it was in the best interests of the case to get someone else from her staff to do the scene as well as the autopsy.” Jane shot a completely baffled look over at him, and he shrugged his shoulders, what little information he had, exhausted. A body was dumped on the greatest Forensic Pathologist in the city, arguably the rest of the country, and she hadn’t even examined it? Maura examined bar food. “Hey, I mean, I would be a little freaked out too if someone that looked like my best friend was dead on my doorstep.”

“What do we have so far?” Of course Maura was freaked. Jane was freaked at the resemblance, and she was rather certain that she was still alive. ‘Freaked out’ was noted, tucked away for Jane to ask about later. Maura never freaked, not like Jane. Almost as if on cue, one of the men that had moved to let her get a look, moved into the home. Soft indoor light trickled out over the body, and the sound of Maura’s voice filtered out with it, probably discussing something with one of her M.E’s. For one of the first times in her career, Jane felt a pull, more like a sharp tug that made her want to actually take a few moments to step away from the scene of the crime…

“Like I said… Dressed before she was brought to the scene. C.O.D we won’t know until we strip her… But Rizzoli? Between you and I, we’re thinking Dr. Isles has a little bit of an admirer.” Jane lowered her gaze to the body again, the cool breeze suddenly chilling her bones. Clad in her work pants and only the black tank top she had worn underneath the blazer from earlier, the goose bumps that rose in her arms didn’t look out of place. Only she knew that their roots ran a little bit deeper. She watched the hair that seemed to mirror her own ruffle the breeze, the hair moving over the gray stone and a splash of red, striking against the backdrop… Red?

“What’s that?” Jane said, zeroing in on the red spot behind her ear. Frost tried to look down, his efforts ditched as he raised his eyes to the stars. Wordlessly, he fished in his pocket and withdrew a single glove and a plastic bag, each of which Jane swiped. In the essence of a true blood hound, Jane squatted for a closer look. Hidden by the hair, the red was barely visible, but tangible, not liquid. Jane worked her hand into the blue glove, and ever so lightly, brushed the strands away. By what remained of the cut off stem, Jane plucked a single, red flower from the strands. “A rose…” Skeptically, Jane mulled over the perfectly blood red flower. Maura didn’t grow roses, at least none that Jane was aware of. “You think this is some sort of…” Jane trailed off, unable to say the last word: gift. Instead, she carefully placed the rose in the baggie and stood, turning to Frost for answers. Unfortunately, Frost wasn’t the only one Jane found.

“I’ll be taking that, thank you.” The rose was plucked from her fingers before Jane could protest, straight into the grips of Korsak. Jane opened her mouth to complain, but the older man silenced her with a hard look, and a palm raised in her direction that beckoned her silence. “Listen, Jane. I don’t want you workin’ this case. It’s a little to personal for you ‘n Dr. Isles to be involved. Now, we don’t think you’re in danger or anything like that… The girl looks like you, but she’s not you… Which we think means this isn’t about you. We don’t know much of anything until we see the Forensic Psychiatrist, but we’re thinkin’ this was all done for Dr. Isles… And we can’t have you two gettin’ involved.”

To hell with that idea. “Oh no. No–no–no… Oh come on.” Jane stamped her foot in frustration. “I wanna find this guy, and you’re telling me that I’m off the case? This is my case!” So, maybe it wasn’t her case formally, but how could she let this go? Whatever this was… It had already screwed with Maura. Screwed with Jane. As far as Jane was concerned, this was personal, a red flag screaming at her to take the bait.

“Rizzoli, I think you and I can both agree that this case is a little bit weird. The vic looks like you, so I’m willin’ to bet the guy knows you… And he obviously knows Maura. All I’m sayin’, it’s best that the two of you lay low for awhile. Don’t get involved– That’s an order.” There was a sense of finality in his voice, and Jane watched in fury as he raised the rose up into the night sky, squinting as if the moonlight would give him a better view of a freaking flower.

“Like you said before, he doesn’t have an interest in murdering me, otherwise, he would’ve already tried it!” Jane could see the logic behind it, she could even understand. Didn’t mean she had to like it, and it didn’t mean she wouldn’t go down fighting this.

Korsak dropped his hand from the sky, his annoyance twitching in a sway of his body. “Look, you’ve gotta friend in there that needs a friend. Let us take care of this one, Rizzoli.”

It was pretty damned infuriating that he knew exactly what to say to shut her up. It was even more infuriating, that it actually worked. Jane backed off her fighting stance and sighed, but still held a firm gaze. “Okay, okay. But– You find this guy.”

With that, Jane spun on her heels as she clutched the door knob, wheeling into the home for the first time that night. The foyer was deserted, but well lit with the amount of people walking through, and everything seemed to be in place. Like everything related to Maura, her home was grand and impeccable, but Jane knew that it was modest in her friend’s book. The foyer, brightly lit with a hanging chandelier, was perfectly designed to fit the ‘mood’ of the room, just like every room in the home. Jane knew Maura’s place like the back of her hand, having hid out in a room she’d dubbed her own after running from a few of her own demons on numerous occasions.

“…I’ll be waiting for the results of the autopsy…” Maura. Jane heard the voice, propelling her feet into motion as she automatically followed it. She could tell exactly where it had come from, the kitchen, as she crossed the foyer and traveled down a short hallway. Jane emerged in the doorway, unexpected as to what she would find. More cops, scouring the house? Her friend, all alone? But finally, Jane could really see. Like oil, she felt the rest of the tension she hadn’t realized she had been harboring, slip off of her shoulders. Jane hesitated in the doorway to soak in the sight, as it embarrassingly hit her now, how worried she had been that she would never see the sight again. The sight of the blonde, standing next to the counter chatting– No, chatting was too light for what she and another older man that Jane recognized to be one of her co–workers were talking about… Regardless, talking… For a brief moment, Jane had thought that all of this could have disappeared. Jane was only semi–aware of the two cops in the living room, checking windows and doors for signs of forced–entry, and her hesitation was only momentary. Inconsiderate to whatever conversation she was interrupting, Jane stepped into the kitchen without invitation, and joined Maura at the other side of the counter. The sudden movement had made Maura look up, and Jane caught the look of the tightness in Maura’s face sink away… As if she had been waiting to see her, too.

Instinctively, Maura turned towards her as she approached, and Jane found her hands gripping the soft skin of Maura’s forearms, her eyes doing a once–over. The room, the surrounding area, Jane felt everything else fade away as she studied Maura as if for the first time. Hair perfectly curled, check. Designer labels in place, check. Heels high enough to legally be considered stilts? Check. Not a single swatch of purple or red decorated the flawless peachy skin, no unfamiliar bump or bruise to be seen. Nothing physical. Jane… Jane wasn’t the most sensitive to emotion all of the time. But even she could see the softness that had taken over Maura’s face, the way her perfectly pink lips pursed as if to bite back tears. Tears Jane’s eyes had been threatening to spill earlier herself. “You’re alive. You’re okay?” Jane’s clasp around her friend’s forearm never slackened, her gaze firmly staring into a pair of eyes that attempted to hide fright.

The pursed lips parted quickly. “I… I thought it was you.” Maura’s look didn’t waver, as she seemed to photograph Jane with her eyes, as if she had to be sure it was really Jane this time, and not some look–alike for the second time. In a twisted way, it occurred to Jane that they both had been through the same thing that night, both fearing for each other’s lives.

“Yeah? Well, I wasn’t exactly expecting to find the entire Boston Police Department here when I arrived! I thought someone had gotten to you!” Jane could hear how brash her voice had gotten, fueled by the fear that had earlier engulfed her.

As always, Maura regained her bearings a little more quickly than Rizzoli. Seeing Jane again was enough, it seemed, and she didn’t have to revel in it. The woman straightened, forcing Jane to drop her hands to the side. “Jane, I told you that I was physically well. You really shouldn’t jump to conclusions.” Maura chided, her look saying: tsk, tsk.

“Mau–ra, I was asleep in my apartment. You shouldn’t jump to conclusions.” As she mocked her, some of the seriousness eased in Jane’s stomach, enough to allow her to raise a lips, but without the sparkle in her eyes, the unbreakable confidence… It just appeared grim.

Jane expected some sort of witty banter, possibly even a mock–snide look. She hadn’t expected to see a troubled look pass over Maura, as the woman turned to the side, suddenly aware of the Medical Examiner still standing opposite of them. Jane got the distinct feeling that she was being brushed off. “So, you’ll call as soon as you determine a Cause of Death?” The words passed through Maura’s lips too quickly, and she looked too interested in his answer for Jane to think this was normal. The graying man, having watched the exchange, his beady eyes shifted from Maura to Jane and back to Maura. “Of course. You’ll be the first to know, Dr. Isles. In the mean time, get some rest. I’ll call you when I know something.”

“Thank you, Dr. Greyson.” Maura’s smile was warm as she reached across the counter to shake his hand, his lips mirroring her’s. With a nod, he regarded Rizzoli before ailing limbs carried him slowly out of the white kitchen.

The air around them was thick, it’s heaviness notable to Jane. Silence. Silence was always heavy, especially with the weight of the words Jane wanted to say hung in the air between them. She wanted to comfort Maura, question Maura (or badger her, as Maura had once put it), but the perfectly hazel eyes were fixed on the counter. It was almost as if Jane could see the dials in her mind spinning, the coils working quickly. If Jane didn’t say something now, she wasn’t sure how long the silence would last. But now was not the time.

“Come on.” Jane commanded, stepping away from the counter. She almost laughed at the way Maura’s brow furrowed, and would have if the circumstances surrounding all of this were weighing so heavily around them. “Where is it that we are going?” Maura questioned, drumming perfectly manicured nails against the counter top.

“You’re staying with me.” Jane smiled as the look of confusion abandoned Maura, to be replaced with a look of content, something Jane hadn’t seen that night. If Maura thought that Jane would let her stay here after all of this, then she needed to re–educate her on the type of friend Jane was.

“Fine, but I think I need a beer.”

* * * * *

“Welcome to Bar–a–la Rizzoli.” With the neck of two ice, cold, delicious beers held firmly in her hands, Jane mock–bowed, and set the beer down on the counter with a ‘clank’.

Leaving the scene hadn’t been a difficult process with Korsak practically pushing the two women out of Maura’s own house, not without a Louis Vuitton bag filled with clothes and other necessities for a few days, her bag armed with items that likely cost more than Jane’s rent. Sitting through Maura coordinating a few outfits– ¦ust for a few days Jane, I promise,” hadn’t been nearly as much of a pain in the ass as finding an open bar was.

Look, Jane understood the fact that by the time they left Maura’s, it was nearly five in the morning. The blue of the sky was becoming a lighter hue, and the stars begun disappearing each minute they drove, in search of the bar. But Jane also understood and fully appreciated the importance of emergency beer, a concept that clearly the city of Boston was unaware of. She was debating preparing a fully typed, spell–checked memo to the Mayor, even though Maura was better than that stuff than she was, when Maura had a rather brilliant idea: “I assure you there is nothing open at this hour, can we just go back to your place?”

It was hard to believe in Boston of all places, that there wasn’t at least one bar open, but getting home after what the two had been through never sounded so… Delicious. And it definitely was five o’clock… It just happened to be a different five o’clock.

Jane slid into the counter stool across from her blond friend, who smiled in thanks. Jane watched as the mouth of the bottle rolled between two precise fingers, meanwhile having her own placed up to lips, gulping the fresh taste like water. After what they had been through, the beer slid down her throat easily, but Maura’s bottle remained on the counter top, her lips pursed in a look of thought. Maura hadn’t said much between her home and returning to Jane’s, uncharacteristically. The only time Maura didn’t speak, was when she had something to say, her eyes anywhere except where Jane wanted them to be– On her own. If only she could see the demons plaguing Maura, she could chase them off.

“So… Why didn’t you just look at the body? You can’t tell me that the Dr. Isles couldn’t have figured out pretty quickly that it was some other poor woman lying there.” Jane had meant for it to be light, a joke that sought answers. It was clear to her that she’d hit the bulls–eye on what Maura was feeling, when the woman turned her head pointedly away from Jane, to stare at a wall with wasn’t as visually appealing as a wall in Maura’s home.

Troubled. Maura welcomed a troubled expression on her face for… Far too many times than Jane liked that night. She rested her chin on her free palm, letting her elbow support her, hesitantly turning her attention back on Jane. “Jane, this is really embarrassing for me. As a Forensic Pathologist, I should have. I should have been able to look at the body and figure out that the curve of her muscles weren’t as defined as your’s, or that her palms were free of your scars. Despite the similarities, her face wasn’t your’s. But I couldn’t even look at her again until I called you.”

Jane mentally blanked. Why couldn’t she look at the body? She cut them open for a living, and sometimes preferred the company of the dead to the living. There wasn’t a body Maura couldn’t place her scalpel in, nevertheless look at. Jane blinked, confusion evident in her vacant stare, until it clicked. Jane was used to the Maura she had known all of this time– Dr. Isles, Queen of the Dead, logical, precise, together Maura– Jane wasn’t used to Maura being incapable of anything except understanding the living. She couldn’t look because it scared her, frightened her that Jane could possibly end up on her table for real. “Awh, don’t beat yourself up over that. It’s all part of being human. We don’t expect to ever find our friends or our loved ones like that.” To show her understanding, Jane’s free hand went to support Maura as well. She snaked it across the table, running her fingers over the blue silk of Maura’s pajama sleeve, feeling the muscle tense before it relaxed underneath her fingers.

It made more than enough sense to Jane, but the weakness clearly bothered Maura. She could understand, Maura operated her life on efficiency. She could see how one thing, even something as traumatizing as discovering her friend dead, would upset Maura for more reasons than one. Through the pink lips across from her a sigh emitted, causing Jane to lift up her beer bottle, and nudge the bottom of it against the one secured between Maura’s fingers. “Hey, at least I can’t call you a cyborg anymore.” Jane wiggled her eyebrows, anything to ease everything off of Maura’s mind even if it was only for a few seconds.

The fact that Jane probably looked ridiculous was key to the initial crinkle in her friend’s eyes. She could see the walls of pressure slowly receding, a smile slowly but surely inching up into a small chuckle. “Guess you’re right,” Maura paused, seeming to size Jane up before she opened her mouth, “Thank you for–”

A shrill noise broke through the quiet kitchen, jolting an automatic leap through both women. The sound radiated from Maura’s pocket– Of course, when Jane thought she was about to get a conversation out of her friend, some twist of fate had to ruin her attempts. “… Well, that was quick.” Maura exclaimed, eying the ID on her phone before flipping it open and pressing it to her ear.

“Isles.” Work. It was a topic Jane both wanted to ignore, and address. With a naturally inquisitive nature, it was hard for Jane to sit this one out. It was hard for Jane to take the backseat knowing that this case was so close to home. Taking Maura in… It wasn’t enough. Jane wanted to be the one out there seeking vengeance, despite strict orders to lay off. There, staring at Maura from across the counter, something clicked within Jane. It resonated deep within her, a silent vow: What ever it would take, she would keep Maura safe… Even if it meant going against her work’s orders. It wasn’t in Jane’s nature to hide the fact that she was hanging on every single word that Maura spoke through the phone. She wasn’t above requesting for the phone to be placed on speaker, either. “…Excellent, what do we have?” Impatience fed fire to Jane’s ankle, bobbing up and down on the medal bar of the stool, her eyes and ears glued to Maura. She wished she could take being off the case more eloquently, and had been doing just fine until the inciting smell of information seeped through the line.

“Oh… Oh my,” Maura paused to clear her throat, “… Thank– Uh, thank you, for letting me know. Yes, I’m fine. Yes– I still want to be updated. I understand, thank you.”

Maura clicked the phone off with a sense of finality, all–too–aware of the eyes on her, desperately begging for a lick of the information she had. Storm clouds passed over top of the deep eyes that had seen too much, and heard too much from the day.

“It’s pretty much confirmed due to… Overwhelming evidence,” Maura swallowed as Jane watched the color drain from her face,

“…I have a stalker.”

Chapter 3. The Truth

Maura:/

There was a zero percent possibility that Jane knew what Maura had been through that night, and that was something the Forensic Pathologist was certain of.

When she’d heard the knock, Maura had been expecting Jane. There had been a lot of tossing and turning before she had gotten the knock at the door, the moon high in the sky and the stars twinkling in the dark of the early morning through her bed room window. No one came knocking at her door at that time. There was no one in Maura’s life that was welcome in her home at that hour, no one except for Jane. A mutual understanding had fallen between the two, seemingly by the first time they’d slid onto a bar stool for after work drinks: “I understand you, better than I understand me, better than most understand me.” It was from that, that spurred their ever–blossoming friendship of mutual trust, mutual comfort, mutual companionship.

And for Maura Isles, lay the foundation for unrequited love. The truth of the matter was, Jane could come knocking at any time, day or night, because there wasn’t a minute in the day that Maura didn’t want to see Jane. When she had drawn back that door, there was no fighting the giddy feeling that came with the thoughts, riddled with the expectancy of spending the rest of the evening with Jane.

She got what she wished for, just not the way she had expected, nor would ever hope for. The image was likely forever embedded in her memory, or what her mind had pieced together when given the visual stimuli– Jane, dead. Maura could spot death from a mile away – she could practically smell it. There was no question that, with one tiny glimpse from horrified eyes, the heart deep within the chest had stopped. The sound of her own screams still reverberated in her eardrums. One look down at her front step, and a feral, animalistic cry of pain ripped her throat, tore her lungs, pierced her auditory nerve. It should have hurt but for the longest time, Maura had a problem recognizing who was making that awful sound… Even went as far as to have the police check her neighbor’s house, check her grounds for someone else…

Maura had been alone. And with the tenderness of her throat, Maura identified the culprit as herself. Slowly she was able to piece together what had taken place after that, but the images were blurry, as if she were attempting to dredge up a nightmare from a tender age in her childhood. Faintly, she remember fingers shaking across the number pad, dialing Rizzoli’s unit. Her frightened words sputtering out: “Possible officer down.”. But more clearly, it’s sharpness evident against the backdrop of ghostly recollection, was the sound of Jane’s voice on the line when she answered: “Maura, what’s up?” Maura scarcely remembered dialing her.

Everything beyond that point was brought to focus. It was a brief moment of insanity that Maura Isles never thought would plague her in a lifetime. Maura was too bright, too together, too different– But maybe not as different as everyone seemed to think. Jane tore her out of the mounting hysteria almost instantaneously, and she carried on the rest of the night like she normally would have– Except for one detail, minuscule to others but grandiose to a woman that spent more time with dead than the living– She didn’t touch the body. She studied the grooves of the woman’s cheek bones, her eyes sliding down the planes of her body and over ruffled work pants that were two sizes too large. She mentally tagged every difference between the dead woman and Jane, but Maura found that it didn’t make a difference. The woman was meant to be Jane, and somewhere deep inside of Maura, couldn’t handle that.

“Cause of death: Y–Incision. Autopsy confirmed that the cause of death was, in simple terms, an Autopsy.”

“… after slicing through the stitches, we recovered photographs of you at previous crime scenes within various internal organs, housed in Ziploc bags.”

“…A single rose, plucked out of her hair by Rizzoli herself… Dr. Isles…? We recovered a picture of Jane within her heart. The Boston P.D says their suspicions were confirmed, and they’re doing what they can to find this guy.”

How was one supposed to act, when faced with this sort of information? Maura felt violation crawl across her skin like maggots, she felt imposed on. But most of all… Sick. Sick that someone was murdering victims, sick that it was done for her. It was normal to be afraid, but Maura couldn’t find much fear. The only thing about the whole incident that had frightened her, was the body. And now that it wasn’t Jane, everything else– The stalker, the investigation… Everything paled in comparison. Of course, she relayed all of the information to Jane. Jane wouldn’t stop until the story had been told, re–told, and told again– Straight from the beginning, up until the time she arrived. Sitting atop the stool in Jane’s kitchen, they picked apart the details, reconnected them one by one. Their musings bonded a silent, unmentioned pact– To continue working this case, together, despite what Korsak or their superiors said. Of course, she excluded the dirty details from the relay. The memory of her scream was all hers.

These thoughts, Maura didn’t dare bring to Jane’s bed. Late noon sunlight streamed in through an uncurtained window, and Maura found herself admiring the way it reflected off her friend’s soft calve muscle too much to allow the twisted events of the night before to shed even an ounce of darkness in on an image she adored. Instead, Maura thought back to the first time she realized her love for Jane Rizzoli…

The discovery in itself wasn’t much of a shock. There had been several clues along the way, glaringly obvious but none in which Maura chose to see until the facts were laid out and the hypothesis was tested. There friendship had grown quickly, so quickly that Maura was able to brush aside her feelings as something strictly platonic– at first. That was until she realized how much easier it was to sleep with Jane around, and how Maura thrived off of their time together, looked forward to the moments when she would hear the boots click down the hallway after a long day of autopsies. Once aware, Maura could never delete the knowledge from her brain. She yearned to be close with Jane and never hid it, but never came out with it either– That was how they operated. There were times in which Maura, wearing a low cut top, would catch Jane’s wandering eyes… Or times when their togetherness flirted dangerously between the boundaries of friends and something more.

Maura was certain that Jane was oblivious– at least consciously. So what did she do? She further confused her. She planted hints like landmines, and when Jane trampled ever–so–closely near, she would throw a blind date Jane’s way, or discuss their mutual lack of love–lives– Each dating men, each of them finding something wrong with the men. Maura was guilty of this, more so than Jane. But what did you do, when the person you loved was unattainable?

You sleep in their bed. You accept their comfort. You revel in what time you have together, and you remind yourself daily that one day… It could all disappear. After the night before, after realizing just how close this all came to actually disappearing… It wasn’t clear to Maura how much longer she could hold out with her knowledge. She wanted Jane to know, but Jane knowing anything… It laid the potential for Maura to lose her. And that… That she couldn’t bare.

The mattress tilted, as Jane kicked another toned leg out from underneath the sheets, Maura unabashedly savoring the last bit of peace on her face, as the serenity of sleep began to melt away. Through out all of her stirrings, Maura was thankful of one simple little gesture that hadn’t changed among Jane’s shifting. It was better than the sight of the woman next to her… The feel of her arm, draped loosely across the small of her back. Maura watched as Jane’s face scrunched, warning her that she had only seconds to gather up the thoughts and secure them away tightly. Nanoseconds before they would have to take their positions, and zero the scoreboard. The buzzer sounded, as long eyelashes fluttered apart, chocolate eyes blinking to life. Like honey, slow and thick, the rosy lips Maura longed for smiled in an emotion and manner Maura could never pin–point, but often saw in the mornings after Jane hid out in her home. Somehow, Maura knew it was a smile only she would see. And somehow, Maura knew that if she didn’t want to lose this– All of this, they would have to begin their daily games. It was the only game Maura would ever be familiar with playing.

“Is this your way of saying you’re attracted to me?”

* * * * *

Jane:/

“Of course.” Jane smirked into her pillow, eyes alight with mischief. For a moment, the night before was obsolete. Of course, it had also taken Jane a little while to figure out what Maura had even been talking about. After a night full of nightmares, Jane awoke to just about the only face she would ever want to see after the fitful rest. So, it sounded a bit gay of her, especially after Maura’s comment, but it was the truth– Waking up to Maura was ten times better than waking up to a guy after a so–so date. Jane woke up on her side facing Maura, who lay neutrally on her stomach, her head nestled on the pillow but turned in her direction. Jane had to blink a few times to work up the sight to see that her arm was still draped across her friend’s back. Jane had only assumed that it would have fallen away some time during the night, but apparently, the fit had been too perfect. “Actually, it seemed to be the only thing that kept you still. You okay?”

Joe Friday could really kick in his sleep, but couldn’t hold a candle to Maura. She thrashed, whatever pain her friend had been haunted with, the source of the shadows in her eyes that Jane had attempted to chase away in vain, all came out in her sleep. Hissing ’Maura… Maura!’ Only temporarily calmed the quell until Jane, exasperated and concerned, threw an arm around the trembling frame. It was enough to calm her for the night, but as Jane peered into the open eyes, she couldn’t tell what it did for her now. Jane’s head arched with the question, her nimble fingers automatically smoothing the silk of Maura’s pajama top against her back, before letting her arm droop and fill the narrow space of bed between them.

“Oddly refreshed,” There was no mistaking the humor that lit Maura’s eyes, the devilish smirk that laced her lips. Overnight it seemed, Maura had re–discovered her sense of humor, to Jane’s surprise– and gratitude. Watching her friend carry herself through the turmoil of the night before had struck Jane somewhere more deeply than she had ever anticipated.

Jane shifted, laying her stomach flat upon the mattress and raising herself up on her elbows. “Was that sarcasm, Dr. Isles?”

With the change in pace, Maura rolled on to her side, a subtle smirk painting her features. “Maybe a little,” she managed, before the sweetest sound, a throaty laugh escaped her lips. Jane found her own smile to be oddly involuntary as her eyes grazed over her friend. Her actions around Maura in general seemed to be oddly involuntary… As of lately. The source of the reasons Jane couldn’t pinpoint, yet didn’t think too widely about. She wasn’t sure, but she could ask Maura if this was a normal response to trauma. Not that their trauma had even been remotely normal.

What was normal, anyway? Jane’s eyes flickered down to Maura’s hands, where she watched the woman trace patterns into her bed sheets. It was the simplest things, gestures like that, that made the breath catch in Jane’s throat for reasons unknown to the homicide detective. Was this normal? Maybe… Maybe it was almost losing it all that–

“Jane… Thank you. Thank you for coming when I called… Thank you for taking me in… This whole situation, I just don’t think it’s going to get any easier–” The words, words had caught Jane off–guard, watching Maura’s fingers delve across white sheets sending her into a state of trance.

“Hey, how many times have you been there for me when I needed you? A lot. Besides… I don’t trust anyone else to stay with you.” That, and the fact that she would never openly admit that she hadn’t wanted Maura out of her sight. And, with the playfulness in the air gone, she also didn’t trust herself to not stay in bed all day if she didn’t get up now. Jane kicked the sheets off of her legs in resolution, peeling her toned abdominal muscles away from the bed, peeling herself away from Maura. The slightest distance was already clearing her head, as Jane padded across the floor toward the bedroom door. It had to be the lack of decent sleep, and the large lack of decent caffeine… Because what else could befuddle her thoughts, when they had a psychotic stalker on their hands? Jane turned the cool metal knob and drew back the door expectantly and sure enough–

A tornado of fur and hair yipped happily, pouncing on her legs for a quick head rub. It was the distraction she needed. Jane bent to extend her hand out to Joe Friday, but was no match for the speed of the dog, who excitedly ran in circles before launching head–first into the sea of sheets and pillows, showering an unsuspecting but laughing Maura with kisses. “You know,” Maura began, holding Joe Friday steady to ward off the attacks, “Dogs have cleaner mouths than human beings?” Maura laughed, scooping the ball of fur up and setting him on her lap.

“Right. I’ve seen where his mouth has been and let me tell you–” Jane began, de–rooting herself from merely viewing in the doorway as she crossed the space to her wardrobe where she would pretend to put a little thought into her outfit, when she was cut off by two, terrified words, gasped from the bed behind her “Oh! Bass!” The horrified look that Jane watched constrict Maura’s face almost sent Jane into a fit of giggles herself.

“Already taken care of. Frankie is going over a few times a day to feed him those… Brazilian strawberries he likes so much… Not exactly the detail job he was looking for, but he’s not complaining.” Jane informed, fingers trailing through an array of average shirts.

“Who– Bass, or Frankie? Bass can be quite… picky. Also, they’re British, Jane. And yes, there is a difference.” Jane stuck her tongue out, back to her childhood roots, receiving a look from Maura that said exactly that.

Fine, then. Jane turned her back on Maura again, to survey her wardrobe. Drab in comparison to the array she had seen in Maura’s closet the night before, a patchwork of fine silk and expensive cashmere. They were different, that was certain; While Maura worried about the stitching and quality of the fabric… Jane made sure not to wear the same thing more than once. It was even more of a plus if it actually matched.

Not that Jane spent a lot of time considering wardrobe matters, but she had the excuse to idly choose whatever, a shrill noise cutting over Joe Friday’s happy pants due to Maura’s belly rubs. Specific ring tone identified. Caller: Ma. Jane groaned. Slowly she turned, her cell phone in a conniption fit of lights, vibrations, and show tunes on her bedside table. Maybe if she waited… She could let the call go to voice mail…

Maura looked up to Jane, and grinned evilly. Maura knew what that song meant. Likewise, Jane knew what that look meant. For someone who wasn’t used to being in the presence in the living, she seemed to know more about Jane than was comfortable, despite her claims that Jane was too ‘complex’. Often, Jane suspected she took a scalpel to her head at night, and examined the spheres of her brain one by one.

Maura’s eyes didn’t leave her, nor did the wicked smile diminish when a perfectly sculpted arm slithered out of her lap, extending over to the table. Jane glared, daring her with a searing look– ‘Don’t you dare, Maura… Don’t you…’

Flip. Click. The dark plastic sailed from the bed in an arc straight to Jane’s hands. The athlete in her had no choice but to grab it out of the air, shooting daggers Maura’s way. Angela Rizzoli always had an odd way of knowing everything about her daughter’s life… And Jane was not about to get into these questions. She could already hear her mother– “See Jane? Even MAURA has a stalker. Maura! Who spends less time on the field than you…” The seconds ticked before Jane pushed the plastic to her ear– There was no avoiding Angela Rizzoli. Like a band–aid, you had to rip it off fast.

“Hey Ma– No, I don’t think I can come over– He told you what? Remind me to kill Frankie– I know it’s gnocchi night but–” Mid–sentence, Maura leaped to her knees on the bed, and situated herself to perch on them in front of Jane. Jane only spared her a single look, translating bits of her mother’s ranting speech, Maura occupying her other ear. Really, she just wanted to get out of Family Dinner Night to focus on the case, or spare Maura from her mother’s limelight, now that Frankie had apparently let the cat out of the bag.

“Jane, I love gnocchi.”

Jane covered the mouth piece with her palm. No gnocchi was worth this. Not even her family’s recipe. “It’s not about the gnocchi, it’s about the people serving–” she tried explaining.

Rapid fire whining in her left ear, “Yeah, Ma, I’m still here!” Jane assured her, only to be chided on phone etiquette, berated for the hundredth time on her line of work.

In her right ear, Maura piped up, though Jane’s eyes remained neutrally transfixed at her own feet. “I love the people serving the gnocchi in question.”

She… What? Jane’s palm smashed down on the mouth piece once more, her head perked to the side in questioning gesture. “You really want to go over there?” Maura knew how her family could be. Why the Forensic Pathologist would subject herself to such intrusion was beyond her.

“…Yes, I do.” Maura said, solidifying her response with a nod.

Jane groaned, again. Maura smiled innocently from the bed, as if she wasn’t the cause behind today’s misfortunes. It was a face Jane could not deny. Given what Maura had been through, was going through… She probably needed the distraction. Her lips pursed quickly, decision made.

“Alright Ma, Maura and I will be over later for gnocchi.”

* * * * *

Not even the Rizzoli Family Gnocchi was worth this.

“Maura, we’re glad to have you. And maybe you can talk some sense into Jane. Isn’t it time she starts bringing some potential husbands around? I want grand kids, you know.” There was a certain whine to her mother’s voice that Jane could not stand, especially when the particular whine was navigated towards pointing out her lack of a husband and children. This was, of course, after getting an earful about the dangers of her job, and an interrogation to Maura on why she didn’t choose to do something safer with her medical degree, like pediatrics. Maura handling children was possibly more laughable than Maura handling live patients, but Jane decided to keep that one to herself.

“You don’t have to answer that.” Who was she kidding? She was certain Maura was fully enjoying this, now that the topic was off the case and on to one of Maura’s favorite subjects. How many times had the Medical Examiner set her up on bad dates?

The large ceramic bowl filled with baked gnocchi finally made it’s way to her open hands across the square table. With word on Maura attending the dinner, Jane’s mother had really went all out, and it was clear that against Maura’s posh lifestyle, her mother was trying to impress. Soft candle light flickered from centerpiece candles, the hot red wax already dripping down the glass holders with the start of dinner. Steam rolled off the abundant slices of garlic bread, situated evenly between her family and Maura. It would be a shame to ruin such a sight, the chandeliers hovering on dim above their heads, accenting the red cloth napkins in their laps to match the red wine in their glasses… Unfortunately, Jane had some brother–killing to do, and fine china wouldn’t stand in her way.

With the Rizzoli china, Jane spooned a large helping of gnocchi on to her plate, and set the bowl in the middle. “Oh, well… Jane is still very young, Mrs. Rizzoli. She still has a few prime years to produce grandchildren before her chances of risk increase.” Jane spied a playful glint in Maura’s eyes, grinding her teeth in response to it.

“But don’t you think it would be good for her to date more. I mean, you date, don’t you? Wouldn’t you agree that it’s normal for women your age?” Her mother dotted the end of her words in the air with her fork, on the same sad mission that she never tired of. Jane regarded the exchange quietly. Perhaps if she avoided it, it would blow over.

Maura was clearly into it. “I suppose for single women it is normal to date at this age… I’ve had a few dates this month myself. Jane is particularly difficult to find dates for.” Could she sense… Manipulation? Maura’s eyes shifted innocently to meet her’s. Oh yes, Manipulation. She was finding humor in this.

Her mother ate it up between fork fulls of gnocchi. “See Jane– Even Dr. Isles finds time to date! And I’m sure things are getting serious now.” Her eyes left Jane and zeroed in on Maura expectantly, her fork still above her plate. Still expecting to pride Maura as an example, but the victories shifted. Maura dumped every guy she ever tried to date for one reason or another. Jane forked a gnocchi for the first time, her eyes shifting between her mother and Maura. She could not miss this.

“Oh– No,” Maura laughed, Jane watching as her thoughts reflected back on the date briefly, “He had Androgenic alopecia.” The humor was lost on the Rizzoli family, as Maura shook her head and chuckled to herself. Jane swallowed a laugh at her mother, who stared blankly at Maura. Frank, who cut his pasta in half with his fork, as if he understood the ailment or the inner workings of Maura’s mind… And her father, who clearly stopped paying attention at ‘Angrogenic’. Jane had a leg up on the knowledge, having heard the story long before they. Sensing the silence that had befallen the table, Maura raised her eyes from the pasta, to meet the incredulous look from across the table.

“… Male patterned baldness.” It was Jane’s turn to chuckle into her gnocchi. How could Maura know that her mother didn’t pride the picky?

A charged silence fell across the table, Angela’s eyes locked on Maura. Jane could see from across the table, Frankie was swallowing the same laugh. Maura was in trouble. When one was invited to Rizzoli Family Dinner, one was welcomed into the family. Unfortunately for Maura, it meant that she would be treated not as an Isles, but as a Rizzoli. Maura’s in trouble, Maura’s in trouble. Na–na–na–na–boo–boo. Why did family dinners bring forth her five–year–old attitude?

Slowly, Maura’s face rose from her plate, sensing the sensitivity of the situation. Jane pressed her lips tightly together simultaneously with the locking of her mother’s jaw, her eyes flipping back from the stony glance of a mother let down, to the deer–in–the–headlights Maura. “Besides, Jane doesn’t really like my attempts to fix her up.” Foiled again, just when the conversation was deviating from her. But not so fast, Isles. Unbeknownst to Maura, the damage had already been done.

The laugh Jane had been biting back sprang from her mouth full force, her mother’s eyes narrowed in preparation. “Jane!” Maura hissed, but Jane swayed back and forth in her seat, Frankie quipping from across the table, but not daring.

“Eat! Both of you!” Angela forked at the pasta menacingly. Laughter halted. The simple command sent the forks sailing down onto the unsuspecting pasta, each woman sharing looks of total and sudden concentration on their dinners. “Jeeze. Carrying on as if there aren’t any good men left in Boston… Male–patterned baldness, my god…” Angela grumbled, clearly distraught.

Seconds ticked by slowly, only the sounds of fork to plate to be heard, no one brave enough to look up from their plate until one courageous soul stepped forward. “So… uh… Anyone up for some baseball?” Frankie provided the escape, so Frankie was also off of her shit list from revealing what had taken place the night before… Maybe. Instantly, a trio of chairs pushed back from the square table Jane muttering, “Oh, me.” Maura aiding with a, “I could use some practice on my form,” each eager to evade the tension in a scramble towards the dining room door.

Jane bee–lined after Frankie, Maura hot on their heels as they ignored protests of ‘Hey!’ chasing out from the dining room and through the home she’d done a lot of growing up in. Foot falls quickened at the appearance of the back door, and faintly Jane could hear the scraping of chairs in the dining room. They had seconds. Frankie slammed open the door and they shot out the back door in a line, emerging on to the green and brown speckled grass of their backyard. The scene was reminiscent of Jane’s childhood. Shrill, tight dinner, then she and Frankie would run off and get into some trouble in the backyard. Only now, it was better with Maura, and with the absence of little Joseph down the block teasing them from the street.

Home free. Chocolate orbs roamed the grass before honing in on the long metal of the abandoned bat. Jogging over, her mind filled with thoughts of optimism. It was fully possible with a Rizzoli lesson, that Maura could be good enough to play in the big leagues– Or, rather, the department baseball games–

Home free? Home not.

“Jane, you better get in here and help me with these dishes. They don’t do themselves you know!”

“Aw, Ma!”

* * * * *

Jane was elbow–deep in soap suds when she first heard it, indicator to a scene she did not want to see. “Jane, don’t you think they look good together?”

Jane regarded the sight out of the kitchen window, but could not agree. The sun set across the back drop of the wooden fence, painting the sky with bright yellows and orange. Her mother, stars in her eyes as she gripped the drying cloth was not referring to nature’s beauty, but something of a different kind.

Jane had idly viewed Frankie and Maura switching bats while soaping up the dishes, watching throw after throw while she slaved away. Eventually she grew bored, and shifted her attention on her task. In doing so, she let the competition creep in.

Competition. It was the first word that popped into her head when her dark eyes flickered up to the window, to see Frankie and Maura intertwined into what would look like a back to front embrace, if the metal of the bat wasn’t lofted in the air. Maura nestled in the inside, Frankie’s hand bracing her lower stomach and holding her hips into place in the ‘proper’ batting stance. His arms laced out over her’s, guiding her arms into a batting stance.

Jane’s face grew hot, a flint of jealousy sparking an ember within her. “No!” The sharpness in Jane’s voice shocked her but she couldn’t bring herself to correct herself. They didn’t look good together. Jane didn’t dare entertain the thoughts of Maura and Frankie because it could never happen– She would never let it happen. All the while, she should be out there helping Maura, not her brother. The jealousy, rolling fierce in the pit of her stomach… Jane didn’t care about the baseball. It was the proximity that bothered her. The closeness of her brother to her friend– Her Maura. Her Maura.

Jane hadn’t realized that her actions had frozen until a plate slipped between her fingers and splashed into the sink, spraying her black top with soap suds. Her eyes not straying from the scene, she wiped her arm across the front of her top, only further dampening it. She paid her shirt no mind, and shook the remaining droplets from her hands.

Without warning, Jane spun around in her tracks, stampeding out of the back door. She couldn’t be sure if her mother had attempted to put a stop to her, only aware of what she had to put a stop to herself. Why was not the question, it was how.

Fire flared and blood boiled, catching remnants of giggles in the air. Baring similarities to a hot–headed child, Jane stomped across the grass, water boiling an spilling over.

“What is that? How do you expect her to hit anything when you have her positioned like that?” Satisfaction set in when they jumped apart, seemingly unaware of Jane until she came up behind them, surprise in their eyes and laced in their expressions.

The rage was ever–present in her voice, anger was not something Jane was ever able to mask eloquently. A baffled Frankie kicked the bat against his foot, his face revealing that he was unaware of where all of this was coming from. Playing innocent, huh? “Come on Jane, it’s the same stance you girls always do.”

Jane would pick at anything for an excuse to cover up. Hide behind half–truths, erase jealousy and fill in a feminist approach. “You girls!? You show her the wrong way because she’s a girl. What is this, the fifties?” Hotly, Jane crossed her arms, realizing how she sounded but unable to halt her mouth. Halt the stabbing feeling in her chest at the thought of Maura with Frankie.

She felt a gentle touch at the side of her elbow, but shook it off. Just by the sound of her voice, Jane could see a mental image of Maura’s face, eyes rounded in surprise. She didn’t dare look over. “Jane, don’t you think you’re–”

Frankie balked, stepping back as if to visually show he was backing down. He could even sense Jane was acting irrationally. Jane knew she was acting irrationally, but she couldn’t stop it. This, she would never compromise. “She needed help, I gave it to her. That’s it.” Frankie’s tone was final, treading near a ‘girl issue’ he didn’t quite understand, but not wishing to become part of it– or fall victim to it.

Her sudden whirlwind, it caught up to her. She really had stormed the grounds because her brother was… What? Showing Maura how to play baseball? Jane felt a new kind of heat simmer across her forehead, and that, was a little thing called embarrassment. “Yeah, well, it’s not needed anymore.” Looking anyone in the eye was not an option at this point, so Jane took a particular interest in kicking a blade of grass that was slightly longer than the rest with the toe of her sneaker.

The crickets sounded. The bat fell to the ground with a metallic ‘clank’, the only sound following as Frankie retreated back across the grass, confusion evident.

Jane’s form remained still. Why did she get herself into this? What was she trying to prove? Why did it bother her so much? The back door slammed shut, breaking the silence.

“Jane,” Maura began, but for the second time that day, Jane’s cell phone cut through the night.

“I’ve gotta get this.” Really, she had to avoid Maura’s X–Ray eyes. Her dissection fingers.

Willingly this time around, Jane drew the phone out of her pocket, flipping it on. The ringtone indicated Frost. Indicated the fact that she would now be allowed to emerge herself in the case, instead of questioning her own motivations. At least she understood the case, even when she didn’t. “Rizzoli. No, it’s fine– What!… Oh god, okay. We’re headed there now.”

“Maura? We’ve gotta go.”

* * * * *

The air seemed to be charged with danger. Two bodies discovered, all baring similarities with the first– Death by autopsy. The frustration Jane felt was deep–pitted; the killer was growing more bold.

“Two bodies discovered. One outside of the Medical Examiner’s building, the other outside of your apartment building, Jane.”

They swirled up the walk of the Boston Police Department, permanently banned from Jane’s apartment for the time being, their presence demanded in lieu of the recent events. Frost promised presents in the form of the photographs extracted from the bodies, right after she forced him to admit that he needed her.

“What was that back there?” Maura demanded, stopping in her tracks as some sort of indication that Jane should stop, too. Crazy wouldn’t stop while they were having this conversation, one that Jane wished to avoid, but nonetheless, the man haunting Maura was still out there… Still fighting for her. Why Maura couldn’t see that, Jane couldn’t understand. This matter was trivial, this matter didn’t throw a man behind bars, so why did it hold so much importance to her?

Jane halted reluctantly to appease her, her foot planted on the first of the stone steps that would lead to a quick escape inside if she needed one. Rigid was also Jane’s posture, as she turned her head back to Maura, who hadn’t moved behind her. She wouldn’t let this go.

“Nothing… He was just… Showing you the wrong way.” Well, that was true, but even on her own ears, it didn’t sound the least bit convincing. Jane chewed on her bottom lip, wishing this would all just go away. Okay, so she overreacted. That wasn’t something that was different or shocking.

“I’m known to be a terrible liar Jane, but you’re not always convincing…” Maura’s no–nonsense look told Jane this was not going to be easy.

“Fine. I… I–uh, I don’t want you dating my brother.” There. She said it. Or had she? Jane watched as the bomb was dropped. She expected confusion, and that was just what Jane got. Maura moved out from behind her to stand next to her, as if the proximity would allow her entry to Jane’s mind.

“I don’t quite understand. Frankie is nice man, he’s my best friend’s brother… Forgive me if I don’t see the problem here.”

“It’s just… Weird, is all.” Jane crossed her arms, uncertainty creeping over her skin. Maura could sense it, smell it on her, Jane was certain.

Her eyes bore into Jane’s, unrelenting. A flicker of uncertainty masked within the hard stare. “Is that all? Is that the only reason you don’t want me dating your brother?” Maura’s arms crossed solidly, her eyes searching.

Was it? “Yes!” Jane nodded her head, so sure. So… Not sure? Why didn’t she want to see Maura with Frankie? Because Frankie could never be good enough. Garret could never be good enough. The Yoga Instructor could never be good enough. Jane could never–

“No…” Unease filled her as a response to the way her stomach had sank. Jane could never be good enough. How easily she had placed herself in the running. So easily it had slipped into her mind, the weight of the statement heavy on her mind, her lungs, her everything.

“I don’t know… Maura!” Jane resisted the urge to stamp her foot, her eyes pleading. Everything pleaded within her just to drop it. Jane had once thought she knew herself, inside and out. Her motivations, why she loved her job so much, why she chose to be single… She couldn’t face the possibility that she was wrong, that she was hiding something from herself. If she didn’t know herself, how could she suspect to get into the mind of a killer? She couldn’t. She couldn’t do her job. “Why aren’t you more worried about the two murders that are clearly committed for you. You’re at risk, and we’re discussing why I don’t want you to date Frankie?”

“Because Jane, I’m here with you. Why should I worry?” Blond tresses shook as if to indicate that she really didn’t grasp the fact that a mad serial killer had a thing for her.

Jane’s eyebrows flickered upward, her eyes rolling. “Gee, Maura, maybe because he found my apartment?”

Maura sighed. “It’s not all about logic sadly, as I have come to discover. You’ll keep me safe, in the same way that I kept you safe when Hoyt escaped. You didn’t go to Frost, to Korsak, your mother. You came to me because you knew I’d never let anything happen to you, just like I know you’ll never let anything happen to me. Just like I knew when Detective Leahy held me at gun point. Just like I will always know. You love me, Jane. Just as I love you.”

And just like that, Jane knew. The breath caught in Jane’s throat, her mind frozen but whirling at a speed Joe Friday couldn’t muster. She could feel her jaw go lax, but couldn’t seem to locate the muscles that would close the gap between her lower and upper teeth. Jane expected a retort at her own flippant response, but this punched the air out of her gut without a single touch. Everything Maura said, was true. It had to be, because Maura was unable to lie. Jane’s shock was frozen on her face, her shining brown eyes examining Maura. The peachy features weren’t shocked, her serene look was one of content as she looked up at her expectantly, as if something was finally off of her chest and she needed some sort of reassurance. It wasn’t a proclamation of love love– Maura could have said this weeks ago without a second thought from Jane. But even Jane, oblivious to all things involving the heart, could feel the crackle of electrons between them. There was no denying anymore, that something between them in the last forty–eight hours had changed or emerged. There was no denying the fact that their little game wasn’t enough anymore. It was why she couldn’t allow Frankie to have her, allow anyone to have her.

“Maura,” It was all Jane could croak, but it was enough. Maura blinked in satisfaction, as if she knew something she said resonated deeper than it once may have. It clicked, and it was enough for now. It broke the moment, shone a bright flashing light on a perspective neither women were willing to tackle out in front of a place where they both worked.

Jane watched pink lips purse themselves in satisfaction as Maura’s heels, a strappy number Jane couldn’t identify if her life depended on it, clicked up the steps of the building. Jane was left alone in the wake of the knowledge, her head spinning, dodging the debris as what she had once known cracked around her.

Or… had she always known? That, was the question.

Chapter 4. The Discovery

“You love me, Jane. Just as I love you.”

The look of understanding, the confident stride straight through the doors of the police department. It all left Jane feeling more uncertain than ever. Jane was used to unfamiliarity. She owned unfamiliar territory when she crashed in, gun drawn and in hot pursuit of her latest perp. But Maura’s comment unlocked a door to a room within her that she hadn’t known existed, and now she was being forced inside without a map. Love. Friends all around her claimed to love each other. It was normal, it wasn’t exactly Jane’s style, but it was normal. Jane loved Maura whether or not she said it out loud, because Maura was her best friend. It just came with the territory. But, had Maura even been referring to a different kind of love, a love other than friendship? Jane didn’t know if she was reading into the situation too much, and that’s what bothered her the most– It was the fact that her mind and her heart automatically went to the other kind of love, the love you certainly didn’t share with your friends (unless, of course, you were into that kind of thing). Fuck. Jane swept her hand across her forehead in agitation, her fingers raking a path across her scalp.

The breeze picked up her hair, a flowing subtle reminder of the fact that Jane was going to have to stride through the doors eventually. It was highly doubtful that the answer to her questions would materialize in the cement of the sidewalk next to her apparently illegally parked car, and the answers wouldn’t have to materialize ever if she just slammed the open door closed and locked it tightly. Done. Yet the shards of the old Jane still remained, slicing at her. When Jane was finally able to gather the shattered pieces of what she had known about her personal life, when she had switched that focus with a tunnel–vision view of her work life, Jane was finally able to ascend the steps of the precinct. Gliding through the door, her jaw square and her head held high, she experienced the first fissures in her perfect facade cracking. Maura had stopped in the threshold, the woman who had been so sure about everything moments before on the steps when she had knocked Jane’s world on a tilt, revealing now how unable she was to move on without Jane; move on to witness the aftermath of a crime committed for her, to her, about her. Maura was vulnerable in the worst way, and despite the fact that Jane wanted to run from what Maura had released within her, the need to protect the woman overpowered all aspects of what was work, and what was personal. So she had clasped her hand around Maura’s elbow, and gently lead her into the beginning of a different kind of revelation.

“Jane, Dr. Isles.” Korsak’s smile was kind but hesitant when they joined the uniformed masses. Jane never saw smiles, but she did see the red rimmed eyes and the dark shadows beneath them– Leading Jane to believe that she and Maura had gotten more rest since the case began than he had. Jane, had other things to worry about, like leaving her emotions at the door. Ever since the night of the call, Jane had been clouded. It was no wonder why homicide didn’t want her working this particular case. While a fiery passion to capture this man and make him pay shoveled adrenaline into her system, Jane realized that this entire time she had felt thankful. Thankful that it hadn’t been Maura lying on the front step when she arrived to the house painted with red and blue lights. How could she expect to get anything accomplished when she was thinking like such… Like such a girl, and not as a homicide detective?

The Boston Police Department made this easier on her. They walked straight into a flurry of motion, the entire squad of homicide detectives littering the room as they shuffled papers and balanced mugs of coffee. Most nodded to her, others grumbled past her as if the case was somehow her fault. To hell with them. Jane glanced over to a wall of computers, Frost’s focus clearly and irrevocably intent on the screen, likely hacking some system or another. It was so normal, that Jane regained the ’homicide hop’ to her step, feeling the part of her missing since the night of her, return. “Korsak, tell me. What the hell is going on now?” Like a satellite, Maura stayed glued to her side as Jane approached Korsak’s desk, where he stood hunched over files and papers and photographs.

Korsak’s hesitation was even more evident now. He avoided both of their gazes and shuffled his weight between his legs, inwardly considering the best plan of attack. . “Maura… Err.. You may want to sit down,” Jane had never seen her former partner’s eyes so soft, not even when the man was looking up cute fuzzy animals on youtube. Shit, this is obviously worse than what was anticipated.. Jane watched as he swept glossy prints from the desk top in front of his chair neatly into his hands, her eyes remaining fixed precisely on the blank backs. Crime scene photos. Jane’s eyes itched for them.

There was a shift to Jane’s side as Maura’s head nodded, but she made no attempt to move. “What ever you wish to tell me, I am prepared to hear.” Jane detached herself from the interest of the unrevealed photographs, looking from Korsak’s concerned expression, to Maura’s feigned look of confidence, dappled by glints of uncertainty hidden within hazel eyes. Her tone was strong, but her mannerisms revealed a different story. There was little keeping Jane from throwing her arms around the woman, and even less keeping her from shutting her out completely after whatever was said outside of the department. Jane settled for the middle ground, again guiding Maura around the desk by the elbow. To her surprise there was no objection when Jane drew back the chair in a loud screech that lost itself among the phone rings and the activity of the department. “Maur please, lets just take a seat, and try to work through this information.” Maura sank easily into the chair when Jane gently pressed a hand upon her shoulder, noticing how tense the muscles were beneath the expensive fabric of her shirt.

“Dr. Isles, I really don’t know how to approach this one. The guy we’re looking for is a sneaky bastard,” Korsak shuffled the images in his hands, Jane’s hungry eyes watching as he chose one from the stack, and gingerly placed it on the desk before Maura. From behind Maura’s seat, Jane leaned over her shoulder as he pushed the image underneath Maura’s eyes with his fingertips. Before Jane could even see who it was, likely before Maura could even finish processing it, Korsak was pushing another image of death underneath Maura’s nose.

The images were similar. A Y–Incision patterned the chest of the victims, gruesome stitches seeming to hold together what was left. Again, both scenes were clearly dump scenes, absent of blood. Bushy dark locks seemed to be positioned outside what looked like her doorway, the other, in the place Maura saw every day of her working life. Bushy hair.. She had seen it before.. Where had she seen it before? “Wait.. That’s the yoga instructor!” Jane exclaimed, her voice trailing off as she connected the pieces. They had gone on a double date with him, arguably the worst double date in the existence of dates due to the aftermath of excessive phone calls and emails.. The other she didn’t recognize, but the pieces were there, and it was likely Maura’s date of the month. He’s targeting Maura’s past lovers. At Jane’s first instinct, her hands gripped Maura’s shoulder, squeezing the form that hadn’t shifted in the slightest since the images were laid down. Like a statue, she remained still beneath your hands, her friend’s silence weighing heavily on Jane’s ears. “Oh, oh honey this is not your fault. Okay?”

Even though Jane was standing right beside her, hand running the length of her shoulders down to Maura’s arm in a comforting gesture, Maura didn’t seem to hear her. “Brock. This.. This one is Robert Burns, a man I dated around the time of last month. We– “ Maura paused, her voice faltering before she swallowed, and picked up as if the lull hadn’t happened, “We hadn’t been dating long before I broke it off.”

Jane grimaced. The body count seemed to be ticking heavy on Maura’s shoulders, so heavily that Jane couldn’t rub it away. She stilled her hands but the touch remained, just incase the Maura could feel through the layer of ice Jane sensed. “What an animal. I’m on this–” Jane spat out in vengeance, only to be cut off as if she hadn’t opened her mouth.

“He’s demonstrating through the manner in which he kills that he understands my relation with the dead. Not only do I examine them and learn every detail through their body structure and cause of death, but I learn to understand them. These are offerings, to me, for me, because I’ve been named ’The Queen of the Dead’.” Maura spoke as if there wasn’t an audience to hear her, Jane would have missed the statement over the excitement of the office if she hadn’t been honed in on Maura.

Oh God. Jane reached over Maura’s shoulder to swipe the two crime scene photos off of the surface, hastily attempting to salvage every part of Maura that was still left. Her head remained shifted toward the desk as if the images were burned there, but Jane pushed the photos into Korsak’s chest without even a glance his direction. “That’s enough for right now!” the words tumbled accusingly out of her mouth, though the blame was far from her former partner’s. Jane would work on not completely torching all bridges that were attempting to connect her back to the case, later, having more pressing manners to attend to.

Jane squatted on her heels to gain decent eye level, but when she forcibly swiveled the desk chair around so that Maura was facing her, Jane was looking up at her. It was a tactic she used when dealing with children and teenagers when trying to establish that they had some sort of control or power, but found use of it now after control had been ripped so greedily from the forensic pathologist’s fingertips. All perk seemed to have deflated from the once upbeat Maura, and while Jane certainly couldn’t expect her to be even half–way normal after seeing her former relationships sprawled heinously across dump sites connected in some way to her, the fact that Maura wasn’t even able to mimic some form of compartmentalizing concerned her. The Maura Jane knew was strong and fearless, but this Maura.. This Maura was beaten down. She sat frozen, glassily staring at her skirt, but the proximity to Jane’s eyes left her no choice, as a hesitant gaze flickered and met chocolate brown eyes. Scrunched in Maura’s lap were her hands, which Jane couldn’t help but clutch possessively. Clearly, all thoughts of what happened outside of the department were gone, Jane’s insecurities momentarily banished.

“You don’t have to do this. I’ll gather up these snapshots, we’ll go–” Go where? Her apartment was off–limits. Maura’s was out of the question. Shit. Jane hesitated, her head whipping up to look around the department, as if the answer would materialize there. No? Fine. “–somewhere.. And, uh, I’ll take care of these myself,” the recovery wasn’t exactly a success, but she worked with what she had.

Sandy locks shook back and forth, not in disagreement, but just.. Shaking. “It is all of my fault. All of these… people.” Maura rattled this off as if stating a fact, the latest statistic pulled from her genius head.

The fuse lit. Jane exploded before she could stop herself, “Hell no it’s not! Maura, this is the fault of some lunatic psychotic serial killer who has some sort of a sick fixation on you and what appears to be your job. I don’t recall you ever killing any of the victims on your table, so don’t even start making comparisons, either.” Maura would know that her anger wasn’t directed at her, but even Jane thought when the words sprang from her lips, that they sounded too harsh, maybe stung a bit too hard for a woman so fragile. It was insane to think that someone so bright would have anything to feel self–conscious about, but cases in the past made Jane believe that the woman before her was trying to correlate herself in some way with the killer. She saw it happen with Hoyt when Maura wasn’t even remotely like the monster, and Jane wouldn’t risk her getting the same idea.

She thanked her lucky stars when Maura nodded, blinking yet seeming to register what Jane was trying to say. Just like Maura understood where Jane was coming from, Jane understood that they weren’t going to get anything else out of Maura, at least for now. Jane squeezed her cool hands reassuringly before standing up, the control over the situation redirected onto the homicide detective.

The olive skin of her face scrunched into a sheepish look, saying ’look, I’m sorry for snapping, but cut me some slack here’, all without saying a word. It was lucky for her that Korsak was forgiving, and that they had a history of saying things without really saying anything. He passed the stack of prints into her hands and she grimly smiled in some sort of resemblance of thanks. “The department is footing the bill on a hotel room for tonight. When I say department, I mean Dr. Isles’ friends down in the medical department chipped in for it when they heard. Suite too, really nice,” Korsak’s eyes glittered, Jane could only guess that he was picturing staying in it himself. “Err.. Anyway, we’ve got detail inside and outside of the hotel. It’s possible he might turn it into another dump site, but if not, at least you’ve got some back up in case anything else goes down.”

Jane blinked. A suite, for the two of them? Either Maura’s friends were really nice, they were kissing her ass for whatever reason, or it was possible they’d be there awhile. Jane didn’t care which one it was, as long as it wasn’t Hotel de la Rizzoli. In that case, she wouldn’t have to swallow her pride and apologize for storming out, only to succumb to begging for a place to stay for the night– Now that would be embarrassing.

All thoughts of working, all hopes that Jane would resume her position as Detective Rizzoli, Jane kissed goodbye. To actually feel resentful about it would mean that she was resentful about having more time to spend making sure Maura was safe both mentally and physically, so Jane let the fact that she was being less productive than normal slide right off of her shoulders… as much as she could. “Send my thanks to Maur’s coworkers.” Maura took that as a signal to stand, quickly pushing the chair into the desk.

It was only then, that it hit her. Jane was about to spend the night with Maura. In a hotel, for the most part, alone. After Maura purposely or inadvertently made Jane question her.. Feelings. Her doubts bubbled to the surface, the homicide department no longer keeping it at bay. Not only was this a bad combination, but for once, Jane couldn’t run from it. She would have to counter it head–first, because if she didn’t, she ran the risk of the Queen of the Dead freezing over completely.

* * * * *

Jane Rizzoli was not gay. Some would maybe argue that the way she preferred playing with the boys, cold beers, and her general behavior was a little.. Butch.. Err– ’Sporty’ . But Jane Rizzoli? Not gay.

If she was gay, which she totally wasn’t, it at least make for an interesting coming out story. Either Jane would kill herself after listening to the incessant crying of her mother about never getting any grand kids, or her mother would do that for her after realizing how much time and hope she wasted over the years of setting Jane up on dates. Her father probably wouldn’t look her in the eye again, ever, and Frankie Jr. would chuckle as if he predicted it or something.

Aside from that, Jane liked men.. Some men, rather. Tough men that enjoyed beer and baseball, not wimpy men who submitted to her every whim. So for her, that settled things– Jane was irrevocably straight. Not gay. Not gay. Not lesbian? Not gay. The mantra repeated throughout the entirety of the drive over to the hotel, a nice high rise that sat on the outskirts of Boston looming into view, overlooking the skyline as it glittered in the night. Rizzoli drove the car in silence. She should have been pressing Maura to speak, who hadn’t since the reveal of the victims, but her own thoughts kept her occupied to the point where even the inner dialogue was a little too loud. But she had to keep reaffirming how not gay she was, in case she ran the risk of forgetting later on. Jane had forgotten once, and in its wake she was left wordlessly repeating the stupid mantra. It would not happen again. Maura was her friend, and whatever feelings that were trying to conflict with that were the result of the stress brought on by thinking she had almost lost her. For the one time Jane actually used logic to come to a conclusion instead of her inherent passion, and she couldn’t even share the accomplishment with Maura.

Only when the car rolled to a stop did Jane detect movement in her peripheral vision, when Maura finally tore herself from staring mute out of the passenger side window. Jane stole a precautionary glance over to the passenger seat before fixing her sight on the windshield in quick succession. Her heart somersaulted in her chest simply by looking at the skin, paler than usual, and the bloodshot eyes that fought back tears. Visibly, Jane winced. Not just at how hard piecing Maura back together was going to be, but at how hard it was going to be for Jane to get so close to the woman that had recently been leaving her mind swimming in doubt.

The case was screwed from the start. She couldn’t help but feel if her body double hadn’t shown up dead on Maura’s front step, that Maura wouldn’t be taking this as hard as she was. Wordlessly, Jane threw the car into park, and scoured the trunk for what little things they were able to bring. Back at her apartment, Jane had dumped a drawer full of whatever it contained into a bag along with a few toiletries, and Maura’s bag had been packed from her expected stay at Jane’s. Both of the straps Jane slung over her shoulder, before collecting a dull Maura and retreating into their hotel hideaway. Add Joe Friday to a list of animals Frankie was going to have to check on for awhile, and she was set.. If she could find the gall call him.

Maura’s friends had really pulled through, and the department had checked them in before their arrival. The hotel staff slipped them the card keys and waved them over to an elevator, Jane’s only focus placed into getting them up to the room in one piece. Silence surrounded them through their ascent up the elevator shaft, and followed them into the hotel room after Jane slid the card key into the slot.

She opened the door into what would be the best hotel room Jane had ever stayed in. The Rizzoli bank account could never afford the sweeping views of Boston, a glittering diamond through the wall to wall windows. Jane, normally oblivious to trivial things such as etiquette, almost thought to kick off her shoes before stepping through the threshold and onto the cream colored carpeting.. Almost. It looked more like a fancy apartment, stepping into the living area. A deep red couch faced the views, adorned with matching pillows beaded with fine detail. Jane’s eyes swept the room in disbelief, noting double doors that likely led to the bedroom on one side, and on the opposite wall, a doorway that led into an actual, legitimate kitchen decked out in swirling gray marble counter tops and gleaming stainless steel.

“Wow. Wow. You have some really nice friends.” Everything was white and pristine, save for the red accents, and Jane hadn’t seen anything like it before.

Jane heard the door click closed behind her. “They just feel sorry for me.” Maura’s indifference was almost lost on Jane, until she remembered that she was used to luxury. Maura passed where Jane rooted herself in awe, traveling in an arc around the back of the couch before lightly perching on a cushion.

“I wish people would feel sorry for me more often..” Jane snorted, speaking to Maura’s back. Jane stepped forward, the bags bumping against her thigh, the straps painfully beginning to bite at her neck. She found her legs in working order again, so she made a beeline toward the double doors, and drew them open into an equally spectacular room, yet it’s elegance wasn’t what had surprised her. The single king size bed did that all on its own.

Jane hesitated before dropping the bags near a chest of drawers, staring at the bed, sizing it up in her head. It would appear that she and Maura were meant to share, which would normally be fine. They had a hundred times before, even had last heart pumped guilty beats in her chest, and before she could question anything again, Jane delved into her bag to retrieve the copies of the crime scene photographs. Swallowing deeply, when Jane backed out of the room, she made sure the doors were shut tightly behind her.

She treaded lightly back into the living space, where Maura hadn’t budged an inch on the couch. She placed the images face down on the coffee table on the opposite side in front of where she would sit, and sighed, knowing there was something else she had to do before she could even think enough to focus on them. If Jane didn’t just ask, she ran the risk of the whole thing with Maura ruining her focus on what really mattered, catching the killer. Jane wrung out her fingers, pacing in front of the couch before stopping off to the side of where Maura sat. “Maura, outside of the department.. What did you mean?” Damn it, Rizzoli. She had so much else to worry about, they both did.

Maura looked up at her, her face revealing nothing but indifference as the slender shoulders hefted. “What are you saying, Jane, that you didn’t understand?” Maura slumped against the back of the couch, as if the thought of explaining anything could actually tire her out.

Maybe it had been a bad idea to ask. The least of Maura’s concerns should be about what Jane thought, and she knew that. But since it was all out there, out in the open, Jane pressed on, ignoring the fact that Maura’s comment rubbed her the wrong way. “Well, yeah. Kind of.” Jane stepped within the narrow spot between the coffee table and the couch, and plopped down on the closest middle cushion. Maura propped her head up by her fist on the arm of the couch to accommodate for the transition, and Jane felt naked as the hazel eyes flickered over her face, considering her, judging her. The seconds ticked on so slowly, that Jane thought Maura may have forgotten what they were talking about. “You’re my friend, Jane, of course I love you.” Her tone was mechanical. Maura sounded bored, as if she had to explain this to a three year old for the hundredth time, but at the very least, Jane was just content with the fact that she hadn’t played dumb.

What had Jane been expecting? Deep, profound confessions of love? Who was she kidding? “Oh, uh.. okay.” Idiot Idiot Idiot. Jane scooted down to the farthest cushion on the couch, where the crime scene photos rested patiently on the smooth surface of the table. This entire time, she’d been playing way too much into Maura’s words, and what an idiot she had been. Get a grip, Rizzoli. Jane knitted her eyebrows, pissed at herself for assuming otherwise, pissed at herself for coming to the other idiot conclusions.

Neither of them appeared to be tired, and neither of them made a motion to get ready to go to sleep. It had only been a few short hours since they had been at Jane’s for dinner, which seemed out of place considering how different things were from just a few hours ago. Jane swept the photos into her hand hurriedly, careful to keep the faces tilted at an angle away from the other side of the couch. The last thing she needed was Maura going catatonic again.

The glossy prints registered a slight familiarity in the back of her mind, but as her eyes scoured the high resolution images, she couldn’t place it. Indicated at the top of the pictures in slanted scrawl was the location of images, or where they had been retrieved. The first was a picture of Jane and Maura, taken from afar at one of the team’s games. They were standing over something, Maura’s ridiculous red and black sporting suit hugging the curves of her body. Jane may have smiled at the memory of Maura hitting a home run, but scrawled at the top: Victim One, Heart. Jane blinked her eyes closed, hard. The picture she was staring at was taken straight from her look–alike’s heart. Jane tried to remain cool as she flipped through the various pictures. Victim One, Stomach. Victim Two, Chest Cavity. The only images she didn’t have were from victim three, and it was likely Maura’s coworkers were retrieving them as she sat there, cutting them straight out of their lifeless bodies. They would likely be similar to the ones Jane flipped through, pictures of Maura at crime scenes overlooking bodies, leaving crime scenes in the medical examiner’s van… The gnocchi from dinner began revolting.

Slicing through the silence, a sharp scalpel to Jane’s mind. “Why aren’t you out working this case?”

Jane’s head snapped up from her work, hurling her straight back into reality. Roused from the darkest corners of the killer’s mind, Jane did herself a favor by tossing the prints back onto the table, resting her elbows on her knees and running her hands through her hair. Her fingers stroked the images of the dead and the film of grime that had settled over her thoughts, and only then was Jane able to safely look at the object of his obsession. It seemed tonight, Maura had taken a liking to channeling Bass Isles through her complete lack of movement. Maura’s head remained against her fist, her position clearly unchanged since their last conversation. “I.. I’m not allowed, you know that.” Well, she technically was now, technically being the word. She hated to admit it, but Korsak was likely letting her on as much as he was just to appease her, as there wasn’t much she could do from a hotel room that she refused to leave Maura in without her.

“Past experiences indicate a specific stubborn pattern. Simply being ’off the case’ has never stopped you before.” Jane searched for scientist behind her words, at least that would ’indicate’ that Maura was slowly reverting back to the Maura she was used to. Instead, the edge to her voice she found didn’t seem forgiving, and neither did the blank look, a look free from all emotion.

The sudden interrogation left Jane uneasy. She sat up, a position she took on the defense. “I am working this case. Kind of– I’m here with you.. And I have the crime scene photos!” Jane gestured to the wide array of, up to this point, fairly useless photos, the white backs mocking her.

Did Maura resent her for not finding this guy, was that what she was trying to say? The agitation embedded itself underneath her skin. What Jane was doing by staying with Maura was pretty damn important, at least it felt that way to her, even if it was inadequate when it came to solving the case. “The most important part of this case for me, is making sure that this.. This murderer, doesn’t get within twenty feet of you. Okay? That’s my job.” Jane failed at hiding her agitation, of course, snapping at a woman who didn’t need it.

Maura hardened, her eyes narrowing. “You accepted the grunt work quite easily,” Maura accused.

“This isn’t grunt work, Maura!” Jane grew frustrated, running a hand through her dark locks again just to ebb it off before she sent the photos flying through the air. How could she say this in a way that would make Maura understand, in a way that would make Jane understand herself? “In this room, right now. This is where I need to be.” Because if I’m out there, I’m not near you, and that is not acceptable.

Maura blinked in regard, the first Maura–like thing she’d done since arriving to the hotel. She considered Jane for a moment, before Jane felt the wall between the beginning to crumble. Maura lifted her head, shifting her shoulder’s to angle herself in a way of openly facing Jane. “I’m sorry Jane. I just.. I know how you love being out there, and getting involved.. I was afraid I was being a burden. I didn’t want you to feel as if you had to choose.”

It was Jane’s turn to blink, this time, in surprise. Choose. It was the root of all evil to her past relationships. The reason as to why she didn’t get involved. Not with the FBI Agent, not with Grant. Jane hadn’t wanted to break their hearts, she hadn’t wanted to choose her job, over the man in her life.

Yet, how easily she had made the choice, here. The choice wasn’t work– It was Maura.

No.

In one swift motion, Jane kicked her legs out from underneath of her and sprang from the couch. She had to do something, anything that didn’t involve thinking on that couch. But as her long taut legs carried her into the kitchen, it was all she could do. In such a small space, you couldn’t run from your thoughts. She only hoped that Maura wouldn’t follow her into them.

It was time for her to accept that case after case, they put more effort into keeping each other safe than catching a killer. That the safety of one another was a large motivator in past cases when it came to catching a killer. Hoyt… the case involving Doyle.. All of it. Jane wasn’t sure when the cases had begun growing more personal and more personal, only that when it came time to track the killer down, her chest inflamed not with the anger caused by a man who had the balls to take something that didn’t belong to him, but anger driven by desperation to catch a man who had the balls to tread so closely to what mattered to her. Now, it was time to accept the fact that she was powerless to intervene in this case. No matter what, the killer was treading closer and closer, and she couldn’t stop it. She could only be here when he arrived, gun raised, bullets flying. ’I won’t accept that.’

“Jane, I said I was sorry.” The words were tired and upon her more quickly than the sound of Maura’s bare feet padding across the tile of the kitchen. ’I have no choice but to accept that.’ She would, because there was still no way she would leave Maura to just get picked off. Jane gritted her teeth in frustration, her arms supporting her weight on the counter top. She leaned in, finding nothing of particular interest in the sink, other than the fact that it kept her from turning around. I chose. Jane’s back involuntarily twitched at the feel of Maura growing closer behind her, until the whisper of feet stopped. As quickly as they had come they retracted across the tile, and Jane exhaled in a ’whoosh’ of air she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

I chose Maura. No one had ever been that important.

It was almost too much to bare alone. When Jane exited the kitchen in favor of the living room, the statue of Maura had settled on the couch. Jane leaned herself against the support of the doorway, staring in at her sandy–haired friend. The sandy–haired friend that she had placed on a pedestal, higher up than anyone else in her life. Her family, her friends, everyone. The still form had reverted back to it’s previous state, eyes fixed blankly on Boston. Jane had shut her out, and in doing so, wiped what progress they had made clear from the slate. Fuck, Jane could be such an ass sometimes.

The quiet was, perhaps, louder to Jane than any words Maura could have spoken. It settled between them, an unfamiliar barricade Jane was adamant to overcome. There had been times when she had seen Maura behave this way, but it was always from a distance. In large social gatherings when she idly sipped a glass of wine, staring off out a bay window, or her general avoidance of large social gatherings in general. It was part of Maura, but not a part that she often brought around Jane, if ever. It was the one part of Maura, while essential to the woman she had become now, it was the one part that frightened Jane the most.

Jane gingerly stepped a path to the seat on the couch that she’d been occupying earlier, knowing this was now her fault, and knowing she had to fix it. “Maura?”

Ever so slightly, the sandy head arched. As if to address that she heard her, meanwhile as if to pretend Jane wasn’t in the room, sitting next to her on the couch. Jane hadn’t seen this before, but recognized the reclusive hermit wishing to crawl into her shell and block off the world. Maura’s parents must have seen this a lot, but Jane wasn’t about to become them. Jane wouldn’t let go as easily as they had.

She thought of what Maura wasn’t able to do with them, the one thing, and vocalized it. “Ask me.”

Hazel eyes remained glued to the floor, but her head swiveled toward Jane suddenly, stopping just as abruptly so that her face wasn’t turned toward her completely. Jane saw her words twirling around in her head as she regarded them, features stony and distant. “Ask you what?” Maura’s voice was cracked, broken, defeated, lifeless. Had Jane’s eyes not been glued to the woman she wouldn’t have… She didn’t recognize it. It broke her heart on the spot, forced Jane to scoot herself and take root in the place on the couch that had previously been the gap between them.

Chocolate eyes honed in imploringly, broadcasting emotions in the dark orbs that she didn’t otherwise know how to express. She pretended not to notice the fact that the lack of distance between them caused Maura’s spine to erect, her body rigid as if one touch would break her. Jane pretended not to notice, and grabbed Maura’s hands, otherwise clenched in her lap. “You didn’t know how to ask them, but you know how to ask me. Ask me. Ask me to fix it.. To– Uh– To ask me to make it all better.” Jane squeezed the hands in her grasp, the cool of Maura’s a stark contrast to the heat of her own.

A chink in the armor. One snag and the tightly woven sweater unraveled. Without warning, the weight of Maura’s body crumpled against her, her spine no longer supporting her as it had. That was okay, Jane was strong enough to support them both, some would even argue that she had enough backbone to lend an army of people. Maura’s head settled against her shoulder, hot tears already beginning to rain down upon Jane’s shirt as Jane looped her arm around Maura’s back, her other protectively encasing her friend within her arms.

Sobs shook in the form of tremors and it was all Jane could do to keep her own bottom lip from trembling at the rawness of it all, coupled with her recent self–discovery. Everything Maura had been going through in the past days flowed out. Every insecurity, every fear, every ounce of guilt seeped out in the form of tears and throat–wrenching cries of pain and hurt. Jane alternated rocking the heaving mass in her arms between stroking her fingers through the light locks of hair, muttering words that didn’t really help other than to assure Maura that she was still there with her. There was redemption in her cries, while Jane internalized everything or expelled it through anger, Maura needed this, and needed someone to tell her that it was going to be okay. And that is exactly what Jane did. It was minutes, maybe hours or possibly days before the tears ebbed, and Maura stilled, the only sound emitting from the brilliant woman in her arms being the occasional sniffle. Jane expected her to pull away immediately, but was surprised to feel her relax into Jane’s embrace after the sobs ceased.

Jane allowed herself a moment to bask in the quiet feel of Maura’s head secure against her chest, before realizing that some sort of assurance from herself needed to be vocalized. “Feel free to use my shirt as a tissue if you need it.” Jane was surprised her funny bone was working after everything, her tone finding it’s usual playful jibe with ease as the thumb stoking her hair moved down to wipe the tear stains off of the porcelain face.

A small chuckle, likely more out of surprise at the way in which Jane was able to make all of this sound semi–normal, rocked against her shoulder. “Don’t be silly Jane, that would be very unsanitary.” Aided by a semi–normal response, Jane approved.

Jane looked down to see the hazel eyes trained up on her, before they disappeared when Maura buried her head against her neck. Her Maura was back, she could tell simply by the lightness in her tone. Maura had cried the demons away, but they still chased Jane. She had to pretend the feel of Maura so close to her neck didn’t send shockwaves through her body, but that all went to hell when the air from Maura’s exhales danced teasingly across her neck. Jane.. Friend.. Upset.. Stop it stop it. Unfortunately, inner thoughts didn’t stop a wave of goosebumps from pebbling her skin. Nice Jane, real nice.

“I need you to allow me to help you find this serial killer, Jane.” Well, at least Maura seemed unaware of what Jane was going though, but it wasn’t the question Jane was expecting, nor wanting.

Jane’s head snapped down to initiate a standoff between stubborn gazes, but Maura’s head was still turned into Jane’s neck. “Maura, no. This.. this guy is clearly out for you. What if he decides you’re next?” Jane reasoned hotly. There was very little Jane would risk, even if that meant never reviewing a single page of the case file, or following a single lead.

Maura spoke into her, words dancing across the base of her neck. “See it from my perspective, Jane. This ’guy’, as you will, is hurting the people around me. You would do the same.” Finally, Maura’s head lifted from her neck, in a tug of war for control with Jane. Jane would, but it totally wasn’t the point. She was armed. Very armed. And very dangerous.

But the logic was spinning inside of Maura’s head. Slowly, Jane could feel Maura peel herself from her chest, her arms reluctant to conform but she forced them to drop to her side anyway. Maura straightened but didn’t scoot away, giving Jane a better view of how puffy Maura’s eyes remained after the tears had stopped. “Killing me would break his pattern, his goal… And.. Jane, you’re more at risk than I. I would never forgive myself if I asked you to hunt him down, and it ended up the other way around. The only way in which I can assure that this won’t happen, is if we work together. Even you must admit that we make a great team.”

They did. They always had, and now Jane was past the point of remembering a case that she solved lately that didn’t involve Maura’s assistance. Jane wasn’t crazy about the idea of Maura involving herself into a case that centered around her already, but if it got herself onto the field.. Maybe she would consider it. . Jane didn’t like it, but she was finding it harder and harder to argue. “…We do make a great team, don’t we?” And, Jane wouldn’t have to hole herself up when there was a case to sink her teeth into, now aided by Maura. Jane’s memories danced back to an earlier time, when things were a bit more simple and less confusing. When her life was clear cut, and everything remained within the boundaries. In doing so, Jane realized that if given the option, she wouldn’t go back. The uncertainty of what choice she had really made was killing her slowly, but she would never go back.

“Yes. It’s unfortunate that our jobs don’t enable us to become work partners.” Maura frowned, as if the Maura Isles, donned in spiked heels and the latest designer jacket, was considering a day in the life of a homicide detective.

“Maura. You.. On the field. Hunting down killers.. With a gun.” Jane laughed, unable to stop despite the way Maura’s shoulders slumped forward, coupled with the distraught look that formed on her face. No matter how great Maura looked when she had taught her how to shoot a gun, the thought of Maura actually chasing someone with one in her Jimmy Choo’s was positively comical. So comical, in fact, that Jane snaked her hand around her back and grabbed the accent pillow stuffed there, pressing it firmly against her mouth to stop herself from laughing at Maura.

A horrified look struck Maura’s features, leading Jane to firmly believe that she imagined the heel of her designer shoes snapping. “Well of course not, Jane. I would just use my expertise to help track the killer. You would be the one with the gun. You did say how you would prefer to ’be the man’ in a partnership..” Oh, well, made sense– Wait, the man?

Now they were joking about it? Again, Jane found the boundaries that separated their friendship from something more, blur. The boundaries had always been something played with, something constantly blurred, even when Jane considered them as just friends. What was new, was that Jane was actually recognizing when the edges became fuzzy, when before, she had been oblivious. “Oh shut up! That was so five cases ago.” Jane exclaimed, smacking the accent pillow into Maura’s side. For now, it was a joke, but it treaded dangerously close to hope.

“Says the woman who was more submissive with a female bartender than she was with a male nurse.” Maura braced for the second inevitable smack of the pillow, and was awarded with one, snorting with laughter.

Even Jane laughed, defensive with disbelief, but happily surprised at what a good cry had done for Maura. “Hey! I was working a case. That was evidence collection, my friend.” Jane dotted her words with her finger, pointing to the spot on her neck where Maura had swabbed.

Maura paused, a look of consideration passing over mischievously playful eyes. “I’d like to work the case.”

Jane felt a flutter in her chest as her heart skipped a beat, long eyelashes blinking in surprise. Maura’s face remained flawless, deceptively cool with her lips contorted into something that fell between a smirk and a smile, and Jane had to wonder– Was she flirting with her?

Maura’s comment went far beyond where either of them had dared to go before. Jane shifted her body, leaning her side against the back of the couch, as she weighed her options. Common sense told her to put a stop to this, now, before they set events into motion that they couldn’t take back. But Jane was suddenly feeling.. Adventurous, curious to see if she was the only one that thought they were beginning to outgrow their own games. “You wanna work the case?” Her voice came out more lowly than she intended, an octave only just above a husk. What was she doing? Jane desperately needed a reaction, something to gauge. She needed to know that she wasn’t crazy, but most importantly, she needed to know that she wasn’t alone.

A tell–tale hitch of breath, the sudden stillness claiming Maura’s body as her eyes seemed to implore Jane; Testing the waters, checking to see if they were on the same level. It was the reaction Jane needed. As not to shatter the moment with sound, Maura nodded her head once in confirmation, truly ready to test Jane’s next move, testing the whatever hypothesis she had arrived on. Jane was aware that the ball was in her court now, but whether or not this was just another one of their games would no longer be a matter of opinion if she decided to shoot. Good or bad, she would get the answer to the question that had haunted her all night– What was Maura to her, really?

A fraction of a centimeter. The olive skin tilted a fraction of a centimeter, dark flowing locks veiled a fraction of a centimeter more of her skin, her neck arching a fraction of a centimeter closer to the truth. Nerves burned her stomach, threatening to turn Jane into a quivering mess, leaving her face brushed with a flush of red. What was she doing? Maura was her best friend, and yet, she was a fraction of an inch closer to changing that forever… Jane had the potential to mess everything up, everything that meant the most to her– Was she ready, willing, to take that kind of leap?

Maura remained impassively cool, but Jane noticed her chin raise. If Jane brought her face closer, the move now gave her the perfect angle to make her move. Their eyes were locked on each other, aware that if they look away, the moment would come crashing down around them. It was now, or never..

A shrieking tone shattered the perfect silence where the only sound had been the sound of their nervously short breaths. Jane jerked back, flushing a hue of crimson, blinking herself out of the hazel hypnosis.

“It’s your Mother.” Maura’s gazed fixed on Jane’s pocket in a mixture of surprise and disbelief. Her eyes returned from their saucer–like appearance at the initial sound, but the pink flush that beautifully captured her normally peachy complexion remained.

A string of curses sprang to Jane’s mind, all of which too dirty to place next to what almost had happened. A deeper blush of red heated her face, as Jane raked her fingers into her pocket, only mustering a mumble of apologies as she dug out the oppressive object.

“Rizzoli!” Jane answered automatically, momentarily forgetting among the embarrassment that her mother was on the other end.

“Janie, what happened? Do you not tell your mother anything anymore? Why do I have to hear from Frankie that your apartment has been roped off…” The string of a million questions continued, and the rest Jane tuned out. Jane worked the back of her neck with the hand that wasn’t holding the phone, disbelief of what her mother just interrupted causing Jane’s eyes to flicker back and forth from the floor over to Maura. Maura’s lips pressed together, shooting a look of understanding at Jane before she stood up from the couch. Jane should have been listening to her mother, but her attention stuck with Maura as she watched her stretch, and watched her retreating figure as it ventured through the doorway of the kitchen.

“Did you hear me! I want answers. You ran off so quickly today after ruining Frankie’s adorable attempts to..”

“–Sorry Ma, but right now is not a good time.”

“It never is a good time with you Jane, you’re always working, you’re always..”

“–Alright, Ma, I’m sorry! I’m fine, Maura is fine. We have a hotel room. No need to worry. We’re working on the case, I’m sorry about dinner, but I’ll call you back sometime later.” Jane figured that covered all of the questions she had or had not been listening to over the course of the phone call.

“Janie, just promise your mother that you’ll be careful, and that you’ll keep our Maura safe.”

Our Maura. This, Jane could promise.

Maura came back as soon as Jane ended the phone call, navigating into the room with two mugs in her hand. She balanced the mugs as she folded herself into the couch, curling her legs as she extended one of them out to her. It didn’t appear to be beer, and Maura would never drink wine out of a mug. “What’s this?” Jane questioned as she took it, the heat through the porcelain a welcomed comfort though the discolored liquid offered no clue.

“Chamomile.” Jane wasn’t a big tea drinker and it wasn’t beer, but she was glad to have it regardless. “Thanks.” The heat from the tea tickled her face as she took a sip, the warmth trailing down her tongue and throat. The awkwardness hadn’t had a chance to settle like Jane thought it would. Maybe it was the chamomile that steamed out the expected tension, but the two women sat at their respective sides of the couch, content as they regarded each other, and regarded what almost had happened. The moment was over, and Jane couldn’t possibly finish her actions now, but neither of them could pretend that it almost didn’t happen. Yet, the moment couldn’t be would just have to wait, wait for the opportunity to explore their options when it could be.

Though highly unwelcome as she sipped her tea and enjoyed the silence, Jane was more prepared when her second call came. This time, from Frost. The comfort of the evening was threatened, but this was also something Jane had grown used to during the course of her work life.

“Rizzoli.” Jane mechanically answered the phone as she untucked her feet and placed them on the ground, propping herself up with her elbow on her knee.

“I don’t know if you’ve had a chance to look at the crime scene photos, but the Medical Examiner retrieved the pics of Isles from our third vic. Want me to send the copies over?”

“Uh, It’d be great if you could.” Jane shuffled the photos on the table, idly flipping over their faces in mock productiveness. “Anything new?”

“Nah, pretty much the same old thing. Maura at crime scenes, Maura getting into her car. Man, this guy turns up at just as many crime scenes as we do.”

Man, this guy turns up at just as many crime scenes as we do. Her partner’s words echoed on loop through Jane’s head as she froze, her jaw dropped to form a perfect ’O’. When she blinked, she was snapped out of it, her fingers furiously shuffling the pictures in front of her.

“Frost, I’ll call you back in a second.” Jane said hurriedly, clicking the phone off. The pictures had pinged with her before.. And just maybe..

She flipped through the one glossy face to the next, Maura at the van, Maura at a crime scene, until she landed on the photograph taken during the mock Boston strangler case. This wasn’t the first time Jane saw the prints, a memory of a previous case, but it was more than just something from a memory. Jane had seen this particular picture once before.

“Jane, what is it? What’s wrong.” Jane hadn’t realized Maura had moved until she felt a hand gingerly touch the side of her arm. Jane looked up into the concerned expression, flipping the image so Maura could see it.

“Oh my God, I think I know where I remember this from. Maura… I think I know who our killer is.”

…