RIZZOLI & ISLES

The Last Ones To Know

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Title: ‘The Last Ones To Know’

Author: readthesubtext

Rating: Fun for all the family. PG–13.

Spoilers: All episodes to date

Genre: Humour / Femslash.

Status: One–shot. Complete @ 3,207 words

Pairing: Jane & Maura. Who else?

Disclaimer: The characters don’t belong to me, I just borrow them for my own amusement. ‘Rizzoli & Isles’ is the brainchild of Tess Gerritsen, Janet Tamaro et al, and the property of TNT.

Synopsis: Post–ep for ‘Born To Run.’ Frankie isn’t the only one who’s starting to realise that his sister would crawl over broken glass for her so–called “friend.”

The Last Ones To Know

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“For God’s sake, Frankie, move.”

Jane heaved an exasperated sigh, pushing her younger brother into the back seat of their parents’ dilapidated station wagon. She climbed in after him, grunting with the effort of sliding her aching limbs across the worn leather, and then elbowed Frankie in the ribs until he obligingly squashed up against the window to make room for Maura.

“Come on, Doc, what’re you waiting for?”

Maura regarded the youngest Rizzoli with startled eyes, hovering uncertainly by the car’s open door. “I just… are you sure you don’t mind me coming with you? Perhaps I should take my own car – ”

“Maura, just get in,” Jane ordered brusquely, inclining her head towards the scant space next to her. “Pop’s right; it’s still gridlocked out there. There’s no sense in all three of us trying to cut through the traffic.”

“And you girls aren’t going anywhere until you’ve had a proper meal,” Angela added firmly. “Frank can run you home later.”

“Ma makes a mean lasagne,” Frankie informed his sister’s friend conversationally, prompting Jane to roll her eyes.

“You keep kissing ass like that, and you’ll make brass in no time.”

Angela regarded her daughter with an affronted expression. “There’s nothing wrong with showing your mother some appreciation, Jane.”

“OK, fine. It’s not like we’ve got a hope in hell of getting seated at a decent restaurant, anyway.”

Amused by their banter, Maura settled herself primly into the back seat, clasping her hands awkwardly in her lap and nodding shyly at Jane’s father as he chivalrously closed the door behind her.

Trying not to notice the way their shoulders were suddenly sandwiched together, or the heat of the Doctor’s thigh pressing tightly against her own, Jane offered her friend a warm smile, pleased when it had the desired affect and Maura began to visibly relax.

Angela eased her way into the passenger’s seat, her eyes widening in horror when she caught sight of her daughter bending over at the waist and straining to untie her shoelaces.

“Don’t you dare take those off in here, Janie!”

“I’ve gotta give this blister some room to breathe, Ma.”

“Yeah, and what about the rest of us?” Frankie teased, grunting when Jane elbowed him in the ribs for the second time in as many minutes.

Noticing the way Jane cringed with pain as she gingerly eased off her shoe, Maura’s brow furrowed with concern. “I thought you said your heel wasn’t bothering you anymore?” she enquired curiously, catching a glimpse of the Detective’s blood–encrusted sock. She tapped Jane lightly on the thigh, gesturing to her foot. “Let me see.”

Jane regarded her incredulously, her hands gesticulating wildly between the gearbox and her brother’s leg, which were currently trapping her in place. “OK, exactly how flexible do you think those Yoga classes made me?”

“Clearly not flexible enough, if you’re cramping out after a few miles,” Frank Rizzoli quipped, glancing over his shoulder and winking at his daughter as he eased the car into reverse.

“Yeah, thanks for the vote of confidence, Pop.”

Maura looked slightly bewildered for a moment, and then sat up a little straighter. “But Jane didn’t cramp out, Mr Rizzoli. She single–handedly saved the –”

Frankie burst out laughing when his sister promptly clamped a hand over the Doctor’s mouth, shaking her head furiously.

“Sssshhh.”

Maura turned to stare at Jane with narrowed eyes, and the Detective sheepishly removed her hand, wiping it against her chest as Frankie looked on with barely concealed amusement.

“What’s she talking about, Janie?” Frank Rizzoli demanded, and Jane shrugged with an air of comical nonchalance.

“I have no idea. The exhaustion’s clearly making her delirious.”

The Detective’s eyes crinkled affectionately as she regarded Maura’s affronted expression, but it didn’t stop her from breathing a sign of relief when her father rolled his eyes in resignation, reaching out to flick on the radio.

As soon as his attention was diverted, Jane turned to face her friend again, this time with a look of incredulity. “OK, which idiot decided to trust you with matters of national security?” she hissed under her breath, and Maura’s gaze was uncomprehending, even as she conceded to lower her voice to a whisper.

“But Jane, how can you sit there and let them think that it took you ten hours to finish that race? I mean, do you have any idea what you accomplished today? You were put under such an extraordinary amount of pressure, but you didn’t let anyone or anything distract you from doing the right thing. Myself included. Your parents should know that,” Maura declared, as passionately as she was able to in a barely audible murmur.

Frankie’s lips curved into a knowing grin. “Did you ever know that you’re my hero?” he started to croon softly, biting his lip when Jane raised her finger warningly.

“Maura, I didn’t do anything to be proud of today, OK? My job is to get monsters off the streets, not lock up some poor kid who’s essentially doing our job for us. That girl’s whole family fell apart because of what those bastards did to her sister, and I denied her the one thing she had left: the opportunity to give them their just deserts. God, I can’t even imagine what she must be going through.” Jane ducked her head, and Frankie regarded his sister sympathetically, poised to offer her some words of comfort.

Dr Isles beat him to it, though, and the youngest Rizzoli looked on gleefully as Maura’s fingers tentatively inched across Jane’s lap, lightly brushing against her clenched knuckles. The contact was fleeting, but Jane glanced up sharply, her eyes boring into the Doctor’s with an intensity that still made Frankie feel a little disconcerted.

“That kid is gonna spend the best part of her life in prison because we didn’t push hard enough for justice in the first place,” the Detective concluded in an anguished tone, her features twisted with disgust. “The heartless bastards that let that case slide? I don’t know how they can live with themselves. It makes me ashamed to call myself a cop,” she spat out, cultivating a neutral expression and waving benignly at her mother when Angela turned around to cast a curious glance in her direction.

“What are you three whispering about back there?”

“Nothing, Ma,” Jane and Frankie replied in perfect unison, eliciting a small smile from Maura.

“Come on, Jane, I know you,” Frankie assured his sister softly, “You would’ve leaked that footage to the press and put your job on the line if you had to.”

“Damn right I would have. And you wonder why I have an issue with over–privileged jackasses who think they can get away with murder because Daddy will always be there to bail them out?” Jane felt Maura stiffen besides her, and was instantly remorseful. “Maura, I’m sorry. You know I didn’t mean – ”

Maura nodded her understanding, but turned to gaze out of the window regardless, prompting Jane to look at her brother helplessly.

Frankie snorted, shrugging his shoulders, but then a mischievous grin lit up his features. He nudged Jane lightly with his elbow, tilting his head towards the radio.

“Hey, Pop, crank up the volume, would ya?”

Jane glanced at her brother as she recognised the familiar tune, barely suppressing a guffaw of laughter as they nodded conspiratorially and began to sing in discordant unison:

“Rising up, back on the streets, I did my time, took my chances. Went the distance, now I’m back on my feet, just a man and his will to survive…”

Angela glanced at her husband, her gaze softening when she saw Frank’s lips start to twitch with amusement. She turned around to gauge Maura’s reaction, only to find the Doctor smiling delightedly at her daughter’s antics. Jane’s singing voice was far from melodic, if not downright abrasive, but Maura’s beam only intensified when the Detective began enthusiastically drumming her knees in time to the music.

“Come on, Maura, you must know this one.”

Maura burst into laughter when Jane and Frankie picked up the chorus, raising their voices a few decibels for good measure.

“It’s the Eye of the Tiger – ”

“It’s the thrill of the fight– ” Maura finally pitched in, and Jane’s voice momentarily faltered as she turned a doting glance in the Doctor’s direction, utterly charmed by the blonde’s unexpected willingness to join in.

“You are so whipped,” Frankie muttered under his breath, smiling good–naturedly when Jane whirled around to level him with the kind of glare that made suspects putty in her hands. This time, Frankie tucked his hands under his armpits, shielding his ribs from the inevitable attack.

* * * * *

“You realise that you’re gonna have to surgically remove me from this thing, right?” Jane announced, gesturing to her one–piece with a long–suffering look as she perched on the edge of her parents’ bathtub.

“Well, that depends. Are you going to supply me with the right tools for the job?”

Maura quirked her eyebrows suggestively and Jane rolled her eyes in response, rooting through her mother’s medicine cabinet and emerging triumphantly with a pair of embroidery scissors.

Maura shook her head despairingly; turning on the faucet and placing her hand under the steady stream of water until she was satisfied it was running hot enough to prepare a footbath for her friend. “I don’t suppose your mother has any tincture of benzoin?”

“Is that Google speak for bath salts?”

Maura’s eyes narrowed, but she couldn’t suppress her laughter. “No, Jane. It’s traditionally used in the treatment of blisters. Do you mind if…” she gestured to the medicine cabinet, and Jane shook her head.

“No, go ahead. Knock yourself out.”

Maura left the dishpan to fill with steaming hot water and Jane looked on with an indulgent expression as the Doctor meticulously studied the products available to her; brow furrowing in concentration. The bathroom filled with a fragrant aroma as Maura played mix and match with her mother’s toiletries, and Jane was perfectly content to let her take charge until she saw what the Doctor was clutching in her hands.

“You’re going to put nasal spray in my foot bath?”

“Eucalyptus oil,” Maura hastened to explain. “It’s renowned for it’s soothing properties and it’ll help to cleanse the wound.”

“But I thought you hated improvising?” Jane teased, but when the Doctor didn’t crack a smile in response, her expression suddenly became serious. “Hey,” she said softly, reaching out to clasp her friend’s forearm. “You did good today, too. You know that, right?”

“Really? Because I got the impression that you were less than impressed with my performance. It might have had something to do with you telling me to shut up. Repeatedly.”

“Come on, Maura, cut me a break here. I had everyone and their mother trying to tell me how to do my job,” Jane protested, scrubbing her face with her hands, “I just couldn’t handle getting an earful from you, too.”

Maura regarded her intently. “So you would rather I just blindly agree with everything you propose, even if it’s against my better judgment?”

“No!” Jane looked horrified by the mere suggestion. “I like the fact that you challenge me when you think I’m out of line, but there’s a time and a place and I…” Jane regarded her friend plaintively; “I really don’t want to fight about this tonight.”

Maura looked like she was going to object for a moment, but then she bowed her head in acquiescence, placing the dishpan on the bathroom floor and kneeling down besides it. She gently elevated Jane’s right leg until the Detective’s foot was resting securely in her lap.

“OK, let me take a look at this,” she murmured, carefully slipping her fingers underneath the fabric of Jane’s blood–spattered sock and painstakingly easing the material over the Detective’s injured heel.

Jane hissed and recoiled away from her regardless, and Maura regarded her wryly.

“Come on, Detective, I thought you were made of tougher stuff than that,” she teased, although she couldn’t help but suck in a breath when she saw the extent of the damage.

“Jane, that looks more like a Stage 3 decubitus ulcer than a blister. Your heel is red raw. I think you’ve damaged the subcutaneous tissue, not just the dermis.”

“Well, whatever it is, it stings like a bitch,” Jane admitted, and Maura regarded her friend accusatorily.

“Please tell me you broke in your shoes before today?”

“And this is coming from the woman who wanted me to run twenty–six miles barefoot?”

Maura regarded her friend defiantly, and then abruptly stood up, leaving Jane’s foot to hurtle off her lap and plunge into the dishpan without any advance warning.

“Ow! Holy shit, Maura!” the Detective yelled, hastily extracting her foot and sloshing water all over the linoleum floor in the process. The momentum caused a sizeable portion of water to flick back into her friend’s face, and Maura sputtered at the unexpected soaking, her jaw dropping open in surprise.

Jane managed to cling to her wounded expression for all of five seconds before she burst into hysterical laughter, clutching her stomach and sinking onto the bathroom floor when it became impossible to maintain her balance on the edge of the bathtub.

“Oh crap, that hurts,” she moaned between peals of laughter, opening her eyes to find Maura hovering over her, her own shoulders shaking with merriment.

Jane clasped the blonde’s proffered hand, allowing Maura to pull her into an upright position, and then promptly collapsed against the wall.

“Come on. I promise it’ll stop stinging once you’ve submerged it for a few seconds,” the Doctor assured her earnestly.

Jane regarded her suspiciously. “You expect me to believe you after you pulled a stunt like that?”

“I didn’t do it on purpose, Jane!”

“Well, thank God all of your patients are dead on arrival, because with a bedside manner like that…”

“Jane!” Maura exclaimed, torn between amusement and exasperation.

The Detective sighed, reaching for the dishpan, and tentatively eased her foot into what was left of the liquid. She grimaced, and Maura instinctively reached out to lay a comforting hand on the Detective’s forearm.

“Better?” she asked after a few moments, watching the tension gradually easing out of her friend’s taut physique, and Jane nodded, closing her eyes contentedly.

Maura’s eyes roved appreciatively over her friend’s countenance, wondering why Jane’s effortless beauty still managed to catch her off–guard. She’d managed to persuade the Detective to forego her modesty earlier, but even though the spandex left little to the imagination, a part of her still longed to see more.

“Why didn’t you tell me it was hurting you so much?” she asked softly, and Jane’s shoulders lifted in a barely perceptible shrug.

“Because I know how much finishing that race meant to you,” the Detective said simply, “And the kids,” she hastily added, even though it was patently an afterthought. “I guess runners’ high took care of the rest.”

When Maura didn’t respond, Jane cranked open an eyelid, surprised to find her friend staring at her with luminous eyes.

“Jesus Christ, what is wrong with you today?” the Detective demanded, her heart sinking at the prospect of being subjected to yet more tears.

“I just… I’ve never had a friend who was willing to do something like that for me before. I’ve never had a friend –” Maura’s voice faltered, and she ducked her head. “I’m lucky to have you, Jane.”

“Maura…” Jane’s features softened as she reached out to smooth away the lone tear trickling down the Doctor’s cheek. “I’m the lucky one, OK?” she murmured gruffly, her lips brushing against the blonde’s forehead in a chaste, but tender kiss.

Maura simply stared at the Detective for a moment, rendered speechless by the unprecedented display of affection. She cocked her head to the side, trying to decipher the emotions playing across her friend’s features, but eventually admitted defeat when Jane looked away, abruptly severing the eye contact.

Maura bumped her friend’s shoulder companionably, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips as she searched for a way to whitewash over the pregnant pause. “Well… you can be very trying at times,” she teased, pleased when Jane gamely played along and feigned offence.

They both jumped when Angela knocked on the bathroom door, entering the room without waiting for permission.

“I was going to ask you girls if you wanted to take a shower before dinner, but it looks like you’ve already turned the place into a paddling pool,” she griped sarcastically; regarding the puddles on her linoleum floor with a loud sigh. “What the hell have you been doing in here, Janie?”

Maura suppressed a snort of laughter, and Jane didn’t even bother to try.

Angela’s eyes widened in horror when realisation dawned and she saw exactly what her daughter’s ankle was protruding from. “Oh my God, please tell me that isn’t my dishpan? Have you no concept of hygiene?”

“Hey, don’t look at me! It was her idea.” Jane pointed at Maura, her eyes dancing mischievously as the Doctor’s mouth fell open in surprise.

Angela couldn’t help but snicker as she watched the blonde flounder in the wake of her daughter’s bare–faced lie. “You know, Maura, I was actually hoping you would be a good influence on this wayward daughter of mine, but I’m beginning to think that she’s a lost cause.”

Maura started to laugh, and Jane slapped her indignantly on the thigh. “Hey!” she protested, limping to her feet. "That’s not what you said a minute ago,” she reminded her friend, watching as Maura’s cheeks turned an interesting shade of crimson. Jane regarded the Doctor with sparkling eyes, only lowering her gaze when she heard her mother clearing her throat behind her.

The Detective made a show of drying her beleaguered feet on her mother’s best towel, and then ushered Maura towards the door.

“Let’s go and raid Frankie’s closet and see if he owns anything you’re willing to be seen dead in,” she said dryly, squawking out her protests when Angela snatched up the towel and proceeded to swat her across the backside with it.

“Come on, Ma, I’m an injured woman!”

Maura could only look on and laugh helplessly.

* * * * *

“OK, everybody, dinner’s ready!” Angela yelled an hour later, sticking her head around the living room door in an effort to rally the troops.

“Shhhh!”

Frankie pointed wordlessly towards the couch, where Maura was curled against Jane’s side, her head lolling comfortably in the crook of the Detective’s shoulder. Both women were sound asleep, completely oblivious to the film playing in the background. The tableau would have been heart–warming, had it not spoken of an intimacy Angela was still struggling to comprehend.

She stopped in her tracks, clutching the back of her husband’s chair, and mentally replayed the image of her daughter sprinting across that finish line, happier than she’d seen her in years. Jane didn’t smile like that for just anybody, and there was a reason why she’d had to look away when the Doctor had all but flung herself into her daughter’s waiting arms. Outside of family life, Jane wasn’t prone to spontaneous displays of affection, and Angela knew that hug was more than strictly congratulatory.

Still, that didn’t stop her from staring with a slack–jawed expression as Maura shifted in her sleep, wrapping an arm around Jane’s waist. Her eyebrows raised still further when Jane immediately nestled closer, her fingers curling around the Doctor’s wrist as she rested her cheek on top of the blonde’s head. Seeing her daughter’s lips curve into a faint smile, Angela could think of only one solution.

“Frank, go get me the camera.”

~ ~ ~