The One with Magic
or Crack
Chapter One: The One with Fucking Owls
Crack, crack crackity crack. Because 1. 2x07 was basically canonly establishing Maura as knowing a LOT about the occult/Wicca/general magic. Therefore Maura went to Hogwarts, but wait. Maura went to school in France. So um... wait. BEAUXBATONS. Yes. Maura went to Beauxbatons. and 2. THE MOST ILLOGICAL CROSSOVER EVER THEREFORE IT MUST WORK. Also pop culture and sports references galore.
Actual Summary: Jane catches a humdinger, Maura tries to find a cause of death, the only possible one is not what Jane wants to here. And then other Law Enforcement Agencies get involved and Jane has to work with them to solve a case she doens't fully understand.
Notes: Huge thank you for the_kosmonaut for being wonderful and writing me the most cracktastic beta ever. YOU OWN GURL.
Owls, by rule, are not all that common in cities like Boston. While there is plentiful food for them in the preponderance of the rodent population that exists within all cities, they are simply unhappy with the lack of true night and the nearly constant presence of humans. Given that she knows all of these facts because she isn't a fucking moron, Jane Rizzoli cannot deal with the owl that is currently sitting on a lamp post just beside her girlfriend's car. It doesn't belong, it's big and a little bit terrifying and Jane doesn't know if it's on the endangered list of if she can get away with shooting it as it's a 'rabid' animal. She's not above embellishing reports.
The bird looks almost expectant as Jane unlocks Maura's trunk and retrieves the well-worn pair of clogs. She raises her eyebrows at it and it nearly turns its head around, looking away from her. Jane makes a shooing motion with her arms as she tucks Maura's clogs under her arm.
The owl, as if to spite her, does not move.
They've caught a humdinger. Jane hates humdingers, but they make Maura happy so she's chasing down leads even though there aren't any as Maura does her autopsy. Or she was until she got a text from Maura asking if Jane could please run out to the car and fetch her clogs as her feet were killing her. So that's what Jane's doing now.
Jane gives the owl one more narrow-eyed glare, notices that it appears to be carrying a piece of paper attached to its leg and gives up on the universe at large. It's nearly eight o'clock on a Wednesday and she's hungry. Maura's going to be busy for a while once she gets her shoes and Jane wants nothing more than to go home and sleep. She reasons this is because she wants to stop hallucinating owls with fucking letters attached to their legs.
She hurries back into the building, shivering in the late October chill and wishing that she'd worn an actual jacket to work today. Her blazer wasn't going to cut it for much longer.
The morgue is warmer now than the rest of the building, and Jane revels in the warmth as she breathes in morgue chemicals and watches as yet another assistant of Maura's coats his upper lip in Vick's vaporub to cover up the smell of this guy. Rigor had completely passed by the time they'd found him and it wasn't quite consistently hitting freezing yet at night, so their body smelled pretty fucking putrid.
Jane wants to sneer at him and tell him to man up, but she holds her tongue. Maura's assistants aren't really in her purview and Jane is pretty sure that she doesn't want to piss Maura off by insulting them.
"Oh good," Maura says, shedding the expensive and painful looking shoes that she's been wearing all day and taking her clogs as Jane hands them to her. "I'm just about to finish the cranial exam."
"Anything promising?" Jane asks, Maura has sat down on one of the observation stools and is currently sitting in stocking feet, flexing and wiggling her toes. Jane supposes that this is to get the circulation back into them, but doesn't ask because she's pretty sure she doesn't want to know.
Maura looks off into the distance for a moment, and Jane can tell she's thinking hard about something; debating the merits of it and quickly discarding that potential c.o.d., moving on to the next one.
"Nothing as of yet." She smiles at Jane, her hand brushing up against Jane's forearm as Jane glances around and then leans down to kiss her. "I'll let you know if I find anything," Maura promises when Jane pulls away.
They share a smile, that same private smile that they always share when there is the promise of something more to come, later in the evening. Jane knows how she wants Maura, knows how she likes it and Jane wants nothing more than to give it to her.
"There was an owl out by your car," Jane laughs as she heads towards the door. "Wicked fuckin' weird, hah?"
She doesn't see Maura's scalpel-wielding hand go rigid and her face pale as she turns and walks out the door.
x
Normally, when Maura's going to be doing an autopsy late into the night, Jane will go over to Frankie's apartment with Jo Friday. They'll sit around and watch NESN and try not to talk about their parents, work, or their boring lives. It is a time for sibling-bonding over sports. Jane wishes, sometimes, that she could say that it's a brotherhood, but she's not a guy no matter how much she endeavors to be one in all aspects of her daily life.
She and Maura have talked about how Jane is not really comfortable with that aspect of herself at length and have agreed to not discuss it. Or rather, Jane had basically decided that they'd beaten the proverbial horse to death, they'd found workarounds, and all was pretty much good on that front. Or good at the surface at least. Jane doesn't think it'll ever go away. It's probably for the best. Jane has her way of doing things, Maura does as well. The dynamic works and that is all that anyone needs to know.
Frankie has a date tonight, however, so Jane is flying solo, sitting with Jo and Bass in the living room of Maura's house. She's talking to Jo, to herself really, when Jo begins to fucking lose her shit at the window. Jane squints through the darkness outside and sees yet another owl perched on the tree right outside.
Jane glares at it for a minute before digging in her pocket for her phone. She texts Maura that there's another owl hanging around and asks if there is a number that she should call to get animal control out here. She doesn't live in the same neighborhood as Maura (even though it seems more and more like they're living together these days) and Maura did have to deal with a rather nasty raccoon problem a few years ago.
Maura's response, some five minutes of angry glaring and phone book perusing later, is bizarre. I will handle. Have no def c.o.d. coming home in fifteen.
Figures Maura'd want to see this for herself before that she came up with an appropriate response to it. Jane scowls at the window and turns her attention back to the random episode of Masterpiece Theatre she had found on PBS when ESPN was showing something dumb about tennis. Maura likes tennis, Jane gives literally no shits about it.
Jo continues to bark at the owl outside on occasion, but Jane ignores her. The owl seems happy where it is, so Jane isn't going to bother it until Maura comes home.
Mrs. Ashford is having some sort of tea party and Jane's eyes glaze over as she listens to the pretentious sounding British voices drone on in the background. They're talking about scandalous things that are really not very scandalous at all – apparently Ms. Penny Sandervelt is spending far too much time with the stable hand. While she fails to see how this is a problem, Jane is grateful for the background noise. Today has been a long day.
There's headlights in the window quickly followed by the sound of Maura's car cutting off. And then there is silence. Jane isn't used to Maura lingering outside, but supposes that Maura's checking out the owl and prepares herself mentally to be regaled with everything and everything that Doctor Maura Isles knows about owls.
She has a sinking suspicion that it'll be a lot.
Never the picture of patience, Jane checks her watch and stands, heading in bare feet to the door, pulling it open to ask Maura what's taking so long.
The bird is on Maura's fucking arm. Jane's hand is going for her gun and she's advancing slowly as Maura carefully detangles a piece of paper from the owl's leg. She exhales quietly when her fingers close around empty space. Her gun is on the kitchen island where she left it and god damn that bird has to be at least two feet tall.
Jane can take it.
"Merci. Je suis désolé que je n'aie rien pour vous, ma petite." It is still strange to hear Maura speak French, even though Jane knows that she's fluent and has been since she was very young. Jane has asked her to speak it on occasion - she likes hearing Maura speak it.
Maura still bugs her to speak the Italian that she learned from her grandmother over the summers she spent down in Brooklyn as a child. Jane claims to not remember any of it, but when she thinks back on watching her grandfather teach her brothers how to play ball, she does remember a little bit of it. Not enough to communicate, but enough to find romance languages comforting.
The bird takes off and Maura watches it go with a wistful look on her face. It's wingspan is huge and Jane lets out a low whistle, eyes still trained the piece of paper clenched in between Maura's two long fingers.
She shouldn't be here. This is a private moment.
"Owls deliver your mail now?" Jane asks with raised eyebrows as Maura turns and smiles at her. The smile doesn't reach her eyes, which look worried and uncertain. Jane wonders what's bothering her, but doesn't ask. Maura will tell her when she's ready. Jane's sure of that.
Maura laughs nervously and nods, not really giving anything away. "They do on occasion."
Jane shakes her head and offers Maura her hand. "Come in side, Mr. Ashbury is about to reveal the latest scandal on Masterpiece Theatre."
"I can't believe you watch that."
"I can't believe owls deliver your mail." There's a finality about that, a 'so there' as it were. Jane likes getting the last word in. She's competitive and knows how to push Maura's buttons. Maura will never admit it, but she hates not getting the last word in.
x
"I need to tell you something," Maura says later that evening as they climb into bed. She's set a long and thin stick-like thing that Jane's never seen before on the bedside table. Jane is curiously peering at its shiny surface, a question on her lips.
Jane wants to say that she's distracted, that Maura's wearing one of her Patriots jerseys to bed and that she's really fucking hot in such attire. She can't say it, though. Maura has had her attention all evening - first the owl, now the stick and the pronouncement that she had to 'tell Jane something.'
Never a good sign.
"Shoot," Jane says, leaning back against the pillows and folding her arms behind her head. Her elbows are pointy, she hates them.
Maura picks at the comforter, her eyes never meeting Jane's own inquisitive gaze. "I know what killed your victim."
Jane frowns. "I though you didn't have a concrete cause of death."
"I didn't," Maura reached over and picked up the letter the fucking owl had delivered earlier and passes it to Jane. "At least not one that I could tell you."
It is written in ink and on thick paper that feels almost like cloth against the calloused surface of Jane's fingers. She squints at the writing, the ink blots and frowns. "I can't read this," she mutters, turning it over just to make sure she's got it right side up.
"It says that BDMLE will be taking over the case and that I'm to surrender the body to their officials first thing in the morning." Maura is still playing with the comforter, picking at it, rearranging the throw's tassels, not looking at Jane.
"The fuck are they?" Jane demands. She's never heard of them and she sure as fuck isn't letting them steal her case without a fight.
"They're a separate law enforcement agency; they're more equipped to handle cases like this." Maura's being evasive. Jane knows her well enough to pick up on it and she doesn't like being lied to.
Not that Maura ever directly lies, but her sneaky half-truths are even more frustrating for Jane because she's so transparent when she does it. It doesn't take much to know that Maura's lying about something - or avoiding being completely honest.
Jane sighs. She doesn't want to have a fight, doesn't want to tell Maura to just be honest with her. It never is that simple. It's never come easy for her, being totally honest with Maura. They know each other so well that certain things don't even register as half-truths or lies. Maura is secretive about aspects of her past, Jane just assumes that there were shitty and that Maura doesn't want to talk about them.
"Jane," Her voice is more steady now, and Jane's eyes lock on Maura. "What if I told you something so completely and utterly illogical that there was no possible way that you could believe me?"
"I'd ask if you were sniffing morgue chemicals," Jane would too. That shit is powerful and could very easily fuck you up.
Jane Rizzoli is very practical.
Maura's face doesn't falter and Jane's eyes narrow. Oh shit, you're serious.
"I am going to do something now, and I need to ask you to not panic." Maura's hand has moved towards the stick that's still resting on her bedside table. She picks it up and Jane watches as it moves in her hand as though it's always been there - as though it belongs. Jane is wary, watching it. It's strange, Maura's looking off into the distance, her eyes closed tight.
Jane wonders if she should be running for a towel.
"Accio Gray's Anatomy," Maura whispers, staring at the bookshelf shoved off in one corner of the room. Jane's gun is sitting on top of it, her badge as well. And her watch.
The book tugs itself loose from Maura's many other books and Jane watches with wide eyes as it flies across the room towards them. She springs away as it lands in Maura's lap with a loud thump. Jo looks up from the end of the bed, a disinterested air settling over her as she adjusts herself to be more firmly on top of Jane's foot.
She is a logical person, Jane has to be. She relies on hunches and her gut, but at her core, Jane Rizzoli knows that there are certain rules that the universe must follow in order to for life to exist as she knows it. Maura making books flying across the room with just words was certainly not a part of that.
"What the hell did you just do?" Jane demands, eyeing Maura warily.
"Summoning charm."
"What?"
"A summoning charm, fourth grade magical school - I learned it when I was thirteen or so," Maura purses her lips and flicks the stick and mutters something so low that Jane can't understand it. The book flies back across the room and settles itself into the bookshelf once more.
"But how did you-"
Maura shrugs, "Magic exists Jane."
Jane can't comprehend this. It doesn't fit into her carefully constructed boxes that she uses to contain everything that she knows about the universe. She swallows, staring down at her hands, glancing over to see that stick in Maura's hand. "So that's a magic wand?"
Maura nods. "This is made out of sugar maple and has unicorn hair in it." She holds it out to Jane, who fearfully takes it in her hand. The wood is warm under her touch, pale as she would expect maple to be. She flicks it.
Nothing happens.
"Guess I don't have the touch, huh?" She says, handing it back to Maura.
There's a moment of silence, Maura staring down at the stick - wand- in her hand and Jane staring at her. "I couldn't even find the words to tell you." Maura whispers. "I just couldn't. I don't even like that I can do this - it doesn't make sense, it isn't logical." Maura shrugs, "Or at least it doesn't follow normal scientific logic – at least not at present."
Jane supposes that she's got a point. Magic isn't supposed to be logical, however. Jane has read enough fantasy books to know that.
"You're a muggle, you wouldn't understand, I kept telling myself that." Maura sighed. "I always figured that we'd get a case like this though."
"Like what?"
"Our victim was killed by magic - more specifically an illegal spell - and I'm sorry Jane, but Boston PD isn't equipped to handle such a case." Maura sighs. "The aurors are going to take over."
"Aurors?" Jane tests the word tentatively.
"Magical police, Jane."
x
Jane Rizzoli is not entirely sure how she can insist on acting as a liaison to a branch of law enforcement that she's never heard of before. She'll figure something out, just like she always does.
Jesus, Jane feels as though her world view is completely shattered. She knows that it isn't, but she can't wrap her head around everything that Maura told her last night. She had wanted a nice, quiet evening. Maybe some sex, but certainly not the lengthy discussion as to what was and was not a gigantic magical cover-up in recent years. Apparently about half the battles in World War Two were actually fought against magical forces where unsuspecting GIs were sent in to get magically slaughtered by wizards allied with Hitler. Jane was suddenly very grateful that her great-uncle Larry was in the Pacific Theater during that part of the war.
She cannot handle this. Doesn't know what to make of it, but when Maura texts her at nine the next morning, Jane is up from her desk and heading downstairs before Frost or Korsak can say anything. Jane can't help it. She's almost eager to meet another wizard, to see if they're all quirky and eccentric as Maura is.
The morgue is deserted when Jane walks in, but she can hear voices coming from Maura's office. They're raised, Maura is shouting.
"I refuse to allow you to use a memory charm on the entire investigation staff up until this point. You can very easily present paperwork that say that you are FBI or some other legitimate muggle institution, do that instead." Jane doesn't think that she's ever heard Maura sound so angry, she rarely even raises her voice.
"Heal-Doctor Isles," Jane can hear the contempt in this new male voice, "This is not your call. Just bringing this body into your facility was in direct violation of the Statute of Secrecy."
"At the time, no one knew that." Maura's voice has calmed, and Jane can almost hear Maura's mind racing from outside the room. She's standing stock still, squinting through the blinds at these two men, wearing leather trench coats and pinstriped pants.
Never trust anyone who wears pinstripes - it's a good motto if Jane does say so herself.
"Be that as it may, this case cannot exist on the Boston municipal record," A second voice, this one higher, more nasal - more Boston- could be heard. "I know that you prefer to work here, but please do not assume our office is not aware of your presence and keeping close watch on you."
She has to hold herself back, to not lunge forward and rush into the room and punch the fucker. She knows that this is a conversation that she's not supposed to be overhearing. She's a cop, her instinct tells her to stay out of sight until she absolutely has to step in. These guys aren't going to try anything here of all places, not in a place crawling with cops.
Jane can hear Maura sigh, can see the rigid set of her shoulders. "That has nothing to do with this."
"Your loyalties aren't exactly pure," The first man points out. "Your affiliation with an institution such as that… calls many things into question."
"It's just a boarding school. For girls who show magical promise," Maura protests and Jane frowns. What is Maura talking about?
"Beauxbatons has long been suspected by the American Wizarding government as being connected to several of the great wars that have recently taken place in both Europe and the UK." The second man points out. "How do we know you're not one of them?"
Jane watches with wide eyes as Maura rolls up her left shirt sleeve and points her wand at it.
"Suspicum revealo," she says, and her skin glows white, pure. "I am not a Death Eater."